The Dove of Dead Weather
by Clw-x
Summary: Eilya Canann is a peasant from a tiny village called Dead Weather. When she and her brother are driven out of their home, their only chance of survival is at the Wall. As Jon Snow struggles to prepare his men for the war against the coming winter, will Eilya simply serve as a beautiful distraction, or has fate brought her to him for other reasons? [Rated M for lang/sexual content]
1. Chapter 1 - Hunger Games

**Authors Note:**

 **Based on the novel by George RR Martin, so obviously I don't own any of the GOT content/characters.**

 **This is my first GOT fanfic, based on the events following Jon Snow's departure with Tormund for Hardhome to convince the Wildlings to settle south of the Wall (s5 ep7) – in my version, they refuse his offer, and Jon returns to Castle Black without a Wildling army by his side.**

 **Like most stories, the first couple of chapters are a bit slow, in order to introduce Eilya (pronounced Ale-ya) and her brother and their background.**

 **Rated M for some strong language and romantic/adult themes later on.**

 **All comments welcome. Hope you enjoy :)**

 **Clw-x**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Hunger Games**

 **Eilya**

For miles and miles, all that could be seen was white. Like a blanket, strewn across the moors and the low-rise hills, it was as if the colour of the North had vanished, along with the trees and the ponds and the pretty birds that had sang so tunefully during the…

Summer was over. That bitter fact was becoming clearer every day.

But despite the cold, and the ice, and the flakes of snow that stung her crimson cheeks, at that moment Eilya Canann actually felt quite flushed - warm in fact! This was a feeling she could embrace, that she would like to have taken the time to enjoy. That was, if she hadn't been running as fast as her leather-clad coat and the three foot of snow would allow her!

Panting, she stopped. 'Dann, wait! Pl… please, can we… just wait!'

Dannard Canann, who had stopped a few feet away, turned to face her. He assessed the land around them, eyes wide, alert and breathing heavily, before nodding.

'I think we're safe now, anyway,' he sighed, re-tracing his steps back to his sister. As he reached her, they caught one another's eye, and began to laugh.

'That could've gone _so_ wrong,' Eilya gasped, playfully punching her brother in the ribs.

'Hey, it worked, didn't it? I was thinking on my feet! At least we'll eat tonight!' Dannard grinned, revealing two loaves of bread and half of a ham, which were tucked away inside of his wool-lined coat.

'Pa will be proud,' Eilya grimaced, wiping wet snow from her pink face. 'His only son, stealing from the castle…'

'And his only daughter.' Dannard interjected. 'And it was from the castle's main butcher, not from the castle itself.'

'Not the point-'

'We've got food. Regardless of how we got it, I think Pa will eat it, don't you? At least we won't starve, like the…' Dannard's smile faded, and Eilya watched sadly as his gaze dropped to his snow-covered boots.

'Like the Marher's,' she finished quietly. They stood for a moment, the frozen, starving faces of their neighbours imprinted into both of their minds, before Dannard's voice broke the stony silence.

'Come on, before the snow gets worse. Keep close to me, and listen out for that bastard butcher!'

* * *

Dead Weather was a tiny village situated within a small ravine, six miles inland of the town and castle of Deepwood Motte. Made up of no more than seventy inhabitants, it had always been a poor village, dependant on the business from travellers, providing passers-by with food and shelter as they journeyed on the Kingsroad. No one knew why the village was called Dead Weather, which hadn't always been its official title, only that this name had been the one to stick.

But the fate of this tiny village had taken a turn for the worse. With winter coming, and the weather changing, and with the fall of Winterfell, there were less travellers passing on the Kingsroad. The smallfolk had turned to Deepwood Motte for help, but after Yara Greyjoy seized the castle, she closed the town's gates to outsiders, convincing her townsfolk that they would not survive the winter if more villagers entered and used up their dwindling food supplies.

And so the smallfolk returned to Dead Weather, empty handed. Illness and starvation broke out, affecting individuals, then families, and then nearly two thirds of the village. Numbers began to diminish. Now only a few were left. Those remaining included Eilya, Dannard and their father, Rodrick Canann, who was waiting anxiously for his children's return.

They opened the door to their small house, just as night was beginning to fall. Rodrick jumped up from the wooden table and threw his arms around his children's shoulders.

'I was so worried about you both,' he cried, his voice muffled against Eilya's damp, messy mane of hair. Eilya hugged him back, but swallowed uneasily as she felt his bony shoulders through his thin jumper. Her father was becoming skinnier by the day. Rodrick let go of them, and looked between them slowly. 'Did you manage to… to get…' He trailed off. Dannard quickly pulled out the ham and loaves of bread and held them out to their father. Rodrick's eyes widened and his tired face broke into a toothy smile. 'How did you…? This is amazing, well done both of you!' He took the food and placed them on the table, side by side, as though they were precious metals or rare stones. 'This is amazing. Perhaps the Motte will let us pass, now that there are less of us… we will all find safety for the winter, we will all be saved…'

Eilya shifted uneasily on her feet, as Dannard cleared his throat. 'Er, Pa? We got into the castle another way… we weren't exactly given the food…'

'Pa, we're sorry,' Eilya interrupted, rushing to her father's side. 'But we didn't have a choice, they were turning us away, we would have starved if we didn't get the food! And it was just sat there, on the butcher's counter, and the bread too – we got away! Dann knows a way in, from when he used to meet that girl, the Inn Keeper's daughter, in private, because he didn't like Dann, did he. And it was his idea anyway!'

Dannard scowled at his sister, but their father just sighed. 'Did anyone follow you here?' he asked simply.

'No, we out ran them back at the castle,' Dannard replied, removing his wet coat and running a hand through his floppy, matted hair.

The siblings looked similar, with their thick, chestnut-brown locks and piercing, crystal-blue eyes. Their pale features matched the skin tone of all other Northerners, although Eilya had often considered herself paler than her friends when they were children, when they used to play in the fields during the summer, and the only colour Eilya ever gained was from a few freckles on her little cheeks. This was back when her friends had been alive… now she only had her older brother and her father left in the world.

Rodrick nodded slowly and turned away from them. 'You two dry off, I'll prepare us dinner.'

Eilya shivered against the small fire at the head of the room as she too removed her wet coat. Dannard sat beside her, staring absent mindedly into the flames.

She daren't ask him what they were going to do once this food had gone.

* * *

 **Chapter title based loosely on the novel by Suzanne Collins (although the two are not linked in any way whatsoever).**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Blade and The Farewell

**Chapter 2 – The Blade and The Farewell**

 **Eilya**

There was banging, loud banging, and it woke Eilya from her deep sleep. She blinked in the darkness, her head still on the sack of feathers, her cold body still wrapped in a holey blanket, listening in the silence, wondering if she had just been dreaming.

BANG BANG BANG.

It was coming from the front door. Lifting her head slightly, she heard Dannard and her father's voices as they left their own sleeping quarters, the dim light of a small candle illuminating the darkness as they crept towards the front door.

'Stay here,' Rodrick's voice whispered.

'No way, I'm coming with you,' a defiant Dannard hissed back.

The banging continued until the front door was opened. Eilya slept behind a set of thick wooden beams at the back of their tiny barn-style-hut, and she strained to hear what was going on as she remained stock-still on her bed of dry hay. She could hear voices. They were the voices of the Steer's, the family who used to own the bakery, before they had lost their business, as well as their six year old daughter, who had passed away recently due to illness. Still wrapped in the blanket, Eilya held her breath as the voices continued.

'We saw Dann and Eily returning earlier,' came Justan, the father's voice. 'Did they manage to bring food with them, for you?'

A chill ran through the house. Eilya could tell that her father was standing in the doorway. He hadn't let them into the house.

'Yes, they returned, but I cannot see how that would be a concern of yours,' Rodrick replied slowly.

'You know fucking well that it's a concern! It's a fucking concern of everybody's!' This voice belonged to Semot, the son, who was the same age as Dannard. They had once been friends, in the summer.

'My wife, my Emelia, is ill, Rodrick. She's dying, she's starving. We're all starving. We need this food more than you do. You need to do the right thing here.'

Still holding her breath, Eilya silently crawled towards the beams and peered around at the front door. Dannard was stood closely behind their father, who had the door half open. Justan and Semot were as close, nearly in the doorway. They looked thin and sickly, and were glaring straight at Rodrick.

'I'm sorry to hear that, Justan, I really am. But there is not enough food to save your wife and feed us all. My children need this food just as much as anybody-'

'Why don't you try losing a child!' Justan roared, throwing his entire body weight into the door, knocking Rodrick into Dannard. He and Semot charged into the room, staring wildly around them. Eilya's eyes flicked to the cupboard above the small oven, knowing well of its contents. Her mind was running wild, wondering what she could do.

Semot grasped the front of Rodrick's woollen jumper. 'Where is the fucking food?' he demanded, through gritted teeth, as Justan started ransacking the room, searching wildly. Dannard hit out at Semot, catching his jaw with his clenched fist.

'Get your hands off my father,' he said dangerously, glaring down at Semot, who was sprawled on the floor. 'And get out.'

'Fuck you,' Semot swore, struggling to his feet and clumsily throwing a punch, which missed Dannard, but caught Rodrick square in the chest. Winded, Rodrick fell hard onto the floor. Unable to just sit there any longer, Eilya quickly gave up her hiding position, and flew across the room towards the chaos, grabbing the carving knife off of the table as she passed.

'Get out!' she retorted, stopping in front of Semot, who towered above her. She brandished the knife at him, attempting to appear threatening, trying to ignore the feeling of terror in the pit of her stomach. Semot scowled and clenched his giant fist, raising it high above his head, before it came swinging down towards Eilya's trembling form. Dannard yelled as he went to grab Semot's arm, and Eilya screamed, raising her hand – and the knife – in defence, closing her eyes tightly, waiting for the pain.

But the pain didn't come. All she felt was the weight of Semot on her hand, as the knife was driven into his throat, and the warm blood that trickled down her arm afterwards. She opened her eyes, Semot's stunned, stony face staring back at her. A small gasp escaped her lips as she let go of the knife. Semot fell to the floor with a thud, choking, blood pouring from the open wound in his neck.

He was dead almost as quickly as it had happened. Eilya looked to her brother, blue eyes wide, her mind racing. Dannard just stared at Semot, his mouth slightly agape as the blood started to spread across the wooden floor boards.

'My son!' Justan cried, abandoning his search. He rose to his feet slowly, visibly cowering. 'Y…You won't get away with this, you hear me? You'll be hung for this! You'll all be hung for this!' And with a final horrified look at the dead Semot, he ran from the room and from the house.

'I didn't mean-' Eilya started.

'We have to get him out of here,' said Dannard, grabbing Eilya's shoulders. 'We have to take him to the river, or bury him in the-'

' _You_ gave to get out of here.' Their father's voice came from behind them. Rodrick had managed to prop himself up against the table leg. He looked in a bad way, and was breathing heavily, coughing and wheezing.

'Pa, we're not leaving you here,' Dannard said bluntly, as Eilya kneeled beside their father. 'If you get done for this-'

'I'll be long gone before Justan has even the chance to let anyone know about this,' Rodrick wheezed. 'It's no secret, I am sick, and you two don't need me to protect you anymore. Dann, you're in your twenty-third year, and Eily, you will turn twenty-one in only a few moons. You are no longer children. You need to save yourselves. I'll only hold you back. You have to leave, now.'

'We won't leave you!' Eilya cried, throwing her arms around her father, her tears running into his jumper. 'I did this, I can take the blame, we can save you.'

Although she knew that none of this was true. There was no more food, and they couldn't survive the winter stealing. She would eventually be hung for murder at Deepwood Motte. But leaving her father seemed worse than any of those things.

Rodrick rested his cheek on her soft hair. 'It will all be alright, you have your brother. And you have your memories.'

There was a moment of silence. 'Where do we go?' Dannard asked, his voice breaking.

'You go to the Wall. It will take about a week for you to get there, depending on the snow. Take all of the food and clothing that you can carry – there are nuts and seeds in the barrel over in the corner, there is bread and meat left over, if you ration these, you can make them last. There are two village horses left, the other livestock has been eaten. The horses are weak, they won't last the whole journey. They are in the barn near the main gate, take a couple of barrels of hay, that should get you far enough to walk the rest of the way.'

'The Wall?' Eilya questioned. 'That's the Night's Watch. They won't take me in, I'm a girl, I'm not allowed there!'

'You will take the character of a man. Call yourself Iestyn. The Night's Watch will need all the help they can get for the winter, if you can act in the right way, train with your brother, they will let you stay. You can become a steward, then you will stay out of fighting and out of sight. You'll have food and shelter, you can both survive the winter there. There is no other way. Now go.'

Dannard hugged his father tightly, blinking back tears, before getting to his feet and disappearing into his room to pack some clothes into a leather bag.

'Pa, please…'

'Eilya, my beautiful daughter.' Rodrick cupped her face with a shaking hand, blinking slowly, his chest rising and falling heavily. 'You have your memories. No one can ever take those away from you. But your brother needs you, and you need your brother. If you stay, we will all die. But you have a chance of survival, take it. Please. Let our family live.'

Sobbing, Eilya nodded and hugged her father one last time. Packing another blanket, she gathered together the contents of the barrel, along with the reminder of the food – the bread, the meat, a couple of apples, carrots and onions – and piled them together with Dannard's things. Dressing in their coats, holey gloves and worn boots, they stood together, beside their father, for the last time.

'Pa, I've got you a blanket, and here's a candle. It was the longest one I could find,' said Eilya, her lip trembling as she lay the thickest blanket across her father's thin legs, drawing it up to his chin, and placing the candle on the floor beside him. 'I… I love you, Pa.'

'Get to the Wall,' Rodrick said in a quiet, tired voice. 'You'll be safe there. I love you both. Keep each other safe. That is the most important thing. I love you both.'

With that, Dannard and Eilya left. Following their father's advice, they took the horses from the barn, along with three small barrels of hay, and left Dead Weather behind. Eilya couldn't bring herself to look back at her home. All she could think about was her father, the events of the night and Semot's face as he died on her small blade.

 _I'm so sorry,_ she thought, clutching on to her horse's mane as Dannard took the lead and rode ahead. And tilting her head back, she wept, her tears and her cries disappearing into the snow and the winter cold that had finally destroyed her home.

* * *

 **Things will start to get a move on next chapter - let me know what you think, all comments and suggestions are welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3 - To Castle Black

**Authors Note:**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews and faves/follows so far, all are very much appreciated :)**

 **Apologies for the slow start, I'm a bit of a story-teller - it bugs me when there isn't a decent back story, especially when there are OC's involved and you're left guessing/confused over things! But the beginning is important and very relevant to the story later on (and I've just started writing about Eilya and Jon together, so things are beginning to get a lot more interesting...)**

 **Thanks again for reading, hope you enjoy Chapter 3! Please let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – To Castle Black**

 **Jon**

Eddison Tollett pulled on the rope that tied the longboat to the dock, as his brothers set off in their own boat, beginning the long journey back to Castle Black.

'Lord Commander?' he said, staring up at the dock, where Jon Snow stood facing Tormund Giantsbane, the Wildling. Both were silent. Neither man had said a thing since they had arrived at the dock. Now they seemed to be staring the other out.

'Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?' Jon asked finally, his focus still fully on Tormund.

'These are my people,' the Wildling replied gruffly. 'They do not trust you. And I will not leave them.'

'And what of the winter? What of your children?' Jon found it difficult to hide his frustration. 'What of the war?'

'My people stand a greater chance of surviving together, not divided. We have lived without the help of Crows for centuries, and we will continue to do so now.'

Jon knew there was nothing more he could do. Jon also knew that, deep down, under the stubborn façade, Tormund supported his plan to unite the Night's Watch and the Wildlings as one army against the White Walkers. But his people didn't believe in the offer, convinced that it was a plot to kill them all the moment they marched through Castle Black's gates. He had failed to persuade them, to get them to safety before winter was upon them.

He had failed to build an army to fight the White Walkers.

Jon nodded, his dark hair flopping in front of his dark eyes as he bowed his head. Finally turning away from Tormund, he stepped into the longboat. The Wildling stood and watched the brothers leave, before returning to the crowds of his own, who had now inhabited Hardhome.

'It's probably for the best,' said Edd, rowing the boat away from the dock. He hadn't been fully convinced of Jon's plan from the start. 'The lands directly south of the Wall are becoming harder to farm, and there's not enough shelter at Castle Black-'

'Who will help us fight, Edd?' Jon demanded, facing his friend and fellow brother, who fell instantly silent. 'Who will save us now?'

* * *

 **Eilya**

She couldn't remember the last time she had been on the Kingsroad. It was before the snow started, before the bitter cold began to creep into the North, that was for sure. It had been during the summer, when she and Dannard would head out to promote their father's shoe-making business, for those who had travelled far and wide and were in need of a new pair of sandals, or whose walking boots needed a fix-up. Dannard would tell jokes, charm the passers-by, while Eilya would sing, attracting attention to their handmade signs and homemade apple juice.

'You have a beautiful singing voice,' they would say, stopping for a drink, inspecting their shoes, assessing the business signs written with swirly letters in pretty colours by the pretty girl with the long chestnut hair that reached her waist.

'Thank you, Ser,' the young Eilya would reply, flashing them a toothy smile. 'My father can fix your boots, you know. It wouldn't be for much.'

'As long as you sing another song,' they would say.

 _Those had been the days,_ Eilya thought. She could almost feel the summer breeze on her face as she steered her horse through the snow, her own boots battered and broken, her toes so cold she could no longer feel them. She wasn't entirely certain they were still attached to her feet.

It had been five days since they had left Dead Weather behind, and despite the premature death of one horse and the other becoming too weak to carry anything but the leather bag they had packed, the siblings were making good progress.

'If I'm right,' said Dannard, consulting the compass he and their father had made when Dannard was younger. 'We should only be a couple of hours away.'

Eilya stared at the compass and felt an uneasy, hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach. Was their father dead? Was he still alive? Even now, all these miles away, all she wanted to do was turn around and run back to him. But she couldn't. She had to honour his last wish. She had to follow Dannard to the Wall.

Dannard turned and smiled at her. He looked exhausted, pale and hungry. They hadn't slept properly in days, stealing hours to nap so that they wouldn't freeze to death in the cold. They had had to ration the food to make it last, and neither had had a hot meal since the night they left home. 'Come on,' he encouraged. 'Not far now.'

They began walking again, trudging through the fresh snow. Eilya had lost all sense of time, but she guessed that the sun was high in the sky behind the clouds, from the brightness of the endless view around her. She longed to be above the clouds, bathing in the rays, her cold body melting away in the heat…

'We need to make you look more male-like.' Dannard's voice interrupted her wonderful daydream.

'Okay…' she started slowly, tugging on the horse's reigns to make it walk faster. It huffed in frustration, but sped up slightly. 'How do you plan on achieving that?'

'Well, we can cover your face in dirt, roughen you up a bit,' Dannard said thoughtfully. 'You're already wearing my clothes, we can cut off your hair-'

'What? No! I don't want to cut my hair!'

'You have to. You have to look like a boy. Most boys don't have long, curly hair, Eily, you really don't have a choice.'

Eilya spluttered, trying to think of an excuse. 'Well, I… What will you cut it with?' she challenged. 'We lost the knife, remember? You broke it on the first night trying to cut that wood for the fire.'

Dannard squinted, considering his response. 'Well, in that case, we'll have to tie it up. I have that sheepskin cloak with the hood, you'll just have to keep it up until we can cut your hair.'

Eilya breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least she had her hair for a little longer. Perhaps Dannard would forget about it after they'd been with the Nights Watch for a while.

She couldn't deny that she was nervous. What if she wasn't convincing as a man? What if she was found out? Would they throw her out? Would they _kill_ her? Eilya wasn't normally a nervous person, in fact, she considered herself quite brave. She could round up cattle and sheep, and she could throw an axe better than most of the boys in her village… who had been in her village. But this was different. These weren't boys. These were men. They were soldiers. They wouldn't take a girl trying to fool them for shelter and food lightly. But what choice did she have?

'Why did Pa suggest I call myself Iestyn?' she asked, suddenly remembering her father's name choice.

Dannard didn't say anything for a few moments, as though thinking about his answer.

'It was our brother's name,' he said finally. Eilya looked at him. Dannard had never mentioned their brother. Her father had only mentioned him briefly, when she was younger. She knew not to ask of him, it wasn't something that was talked about. But now Dannard had brought it up…

'Do you remember him?' she asked gently. Dannard was silent again before answering.

'A bit.' He paused, and Eilya thought that was all she would have from him, but he continued. 'I was only six when he was born and when he… when he… passed. So I don't really remember much of him. He only lived for two moons. You were three, you were too young to even realise he was there. He was cute, he was a really smiley baby, I don't think he ever cried. I looked after him. I looked after both of you. Pa was… well he was so cut up over…'

'Over Mam,' Eilya finished, and Dannard nodded.

'Our brother was sick, he wasn't developing. He wouldn't feed properly. He died one night in his sleep. I think he was peaceful. He never cried, anyway…'

Eilya didn't want to ask anymore, and she thought Dannard wouldn't want to talk about it, so instead they just walked on in silence.

Their mother had died giving birth to their baby brother. Eilya hadn't found this out from Dannard or her father, but from their neighbours, the Marher's, who had been close friends of her parents for years. Eilya couldn't remember her mother. She had demanded to know more about her, cried and begged her father to tell her something – anything - but he never did. She knew that her father had loved her mother dearly, and when she died he became a shell of the man he once was. Her name had been Ada, and the Mahrer's said she had been a wonderful mother. Dannard never spoke of her either. The memories were too painful, and the house had been stripped of any memory of her after her death.

Except for one. A necklace, with a steel chain and a long, oval shaped piece of dragon glass that formed a pendent, that had been left in a small wooden box inside a hole in the wooden floorboards of the tiny house in Dead Weather, with a note that had read:

 _To Eilya, my darling daughter. May your beauty last a thousand moons, may your strength match that of a thousand men, and may your love last a thousand eternities._

That note was long gone. Eilya had used it to learn to read, along with books she had bought from Deepwood Motte market with the change her father gave her for helping to promote their small, struggling business. Eilya had no idea where that note had gone – perhaps it had been left in a book she had sold on to a traveller one day in exchange for new reading material, or perhaps her father had found it and burned it – but she had cried and cried, longing for the only piece of her mother she had ever had for herself. As for the necklace, she had worn that every single day since she found it on her ninth birthday, making sure to keep it well hidden from her father and brother, in case they ever tried to take that from her too.

She instinctively laid a hand across her chest, where the pendent hung between her breasts, and it felt warm against her skin. She smiled, feeling somehow closer to the mother she'd never had the chance to know.

Dannard suddenly held his arm out to stop her walking any further. 'We're here.'

Squinting against the brightness of the snow, Eilya looked up. And she gasped. The Wall stood before them, in all of its glory, the giant border of ice glistening, glowering down on all in its wake.

Eilya suddenly felt very, very small.


	4. Chapter 4 - Two Brothers

**Authors Note:**

 **Thank you again for all the support, you guys are fantabulous :) Here's Chapter 4, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – Two Brothers**

 **Eilya**

Taking a step back, she held out her arms and looked to her brother. 'Well, what do you think?'

Dannard, with his arms folded across his front, looked thoughtful again.

'You look good, actually.' He circled her, pulling forward the sheepskin hood that skilfully hid her long hair, which was now in a tight bun at the back of her head, tied in place with leather straps. It felt as though her hair was being ripped out of its roots, but she didn't say anything.

'So you reckon I look convincing?' she asked hopefully. Along with her hair, they had smeared dirt across her face to hide the feminine dimples in her cheeks, dressed her in an extra pair of breaches to make her legs look thicker (tied around her small waist with rope, as Dannard was wider set and easily half a foot taller than his sister), and added an extra woolen jumper under the sheepskin cloak in an attempt to thicken her body a little. If nothing else, at least she wouldn't freeze.

'You don't look like a twenty year old man, though,' said Dannard, straightening her hood again, as Eilya batted his hand away. 'But you could pass as being a bit younger, say about fifteen?'

'As long as it's believable, I can pretend I'm fifteen again,' Eilya said, nodding defiantly, the large hood flapping around her delicate face. 'Only, as a boy this time.'

Picking up the leather bag, Dannard led the way out of the back room of the inn, where they had been changing Eilya into Iestyn. A couple of miles from where they had first laid eyes on the wall, they had found a village, called Mole's Town. It was in a bad way, some of its buildings had recently been burnt to the ground. It was a small, dirty looking place, and the inhabitants had appeared to shy away from them as they walked towards the nearest inn. But after they explained their situation to the old inn keeper and his wife (that they had travelled for days to find their uncle at the Wall after their village had been raided by a gang of thieves), they were quickly offered food and a room.

'Please, we don't have much, but we have bread and wine, and you can stay here if you need to. Us smallfolk, we have to look out for each other. Ain't no one else that will, that's for sure!'

'Thank you, but we must get to uncle. If we could just sit down, my sister has hurt her ankle, you see…'

Finishing her piece of bread, which was a bit stale, but which she had practically inhaled she was so hungry, Eilya smiled to the inn keeper's wife. 'Thank you.' She quickly bowed her head as the wife squinted at her dirty face, and hurried past to avoid any awkward questions.

'We have given your horse some water,' said the inn keeper, as they all stepped outside onto the frozen ground. 'He's over by the stable-'

'Keep him,' said Dannard, waving a gloved hand. 'For the bread, keep him.'

The inn keeper thanked them profoundly as they left. Suddenly feeling nervous, Eilya realised that the next stop was Castle Black.

'My name is Iestyn and I'm fifteen, my name is Iestyn and I'm fifteen,' she repeated, as they trudged closer to the giant, iron gates.

'I'll do the talking,' Dannard murmured, silencing his sister as he banged his fist hard against the iron plates.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a panel in the gate slowly slid to the side, and a pair of dark eyes stared out at them. 'Who goes there?' a deep voice questioned.

'I'm Dannard Canann, son of Rodrick Canann. I wish to join the Night's Watch.'

The eyes narrowed, looking between the siblings. 'And who's that?'

'My brother, Iestyn. Can we pass?'

The pair of eyes looked them over once more, before disappearing behind the iron panel. There was a creek, followed by the sound of a hundred bolts scratching and crunching as the massive gates began to open. Dannard stood, his defiance not once faltering. Eilya stood beside him, fighting the urge to cower behind her brother, or to turn on her heel and run. As the gates opened, a tall figure wearing a black cloak and black leather armour strode towards them, followed by a few other men, who were also wearing black. He had thinning grey hair, and wore an expression as cold as the falling snow.

He stopped short of the siblings, his grey eyes boring into them, one at a time. 'I am Ser Alliser Thorne. First Ranger. Master of Arms. Acting Lord Commander,' he said slowly, his voice gruff and threatening. Eilya wanted to flinch, but kept herself steady. 'What business is it of yours to join the Night's Watch?'

'We are smallfolk of the village of Dead Weather, six miles from Deepwood Motte. Our home has been destroyed. We have nothing. We offer our services to the Night's Watch, to protecting the Wall.'

Dannard didn't blink, holding his head high, even as Alliser Thorne snarled at him. They were the same height, their eyes at the same level, but Ser Alliser somehow appeared to tower above Dannard. 'And what 'services' can you offer, boy?'

Dannard opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by another man in black, wearing a leather and sheepskin hat, who came running through the throng, stopping by the three of them.

'Ser, it's Lord Snow, he returns. Without the Wildlings.'

* * *

 **Jon**

Jon strode out of the tunnel, his five brothers close behind him. As they reached the courtyard of Castle Black, other men appeared to greet them, shake their hands, welcome them back.

'The Wildlings, Ser?' Ollie asked, suddenly appearing at Jon's side, carrying a large wooden sword. The young steward had been training again with the other men, and had gained a large bruise on his cheek. Other than that, he looked unharmed. Jon smiled awkwardly at him. His brothers were staring too, wanting to know of the Wildlings, whether they would be sharing their land and their food with the people they had sworn to fight off.

'The Wildlings wish to remain as free folk beyond the Wall. They have chosen not to fight with us,' said Jon, loud enough for everyone to hear. There was a hum of conversation. A couple of men cheered.

'Wildling scum!'

'Keep the fuckers where they belong!'

Jon sighed, bowing his head and staring at the ground. No one seemed to understand that all was lost without the Wildlings.

'Lord Commander.' Alliser Thorne had arrived in the courtyard. Behind him, two men Jon did not recognise. One was tall, with an unruly mop of chestnut-brown hair, carrying a broken leather bag. Next to him, stood a shorter, younger boy, wearing a large sheepskin cloak, the hood so large it appeared to engulf half of his face. 'These two arrived at the gate. They are peasants. We have no place for them here, I-'

Jon waved his hand to silence him. Ser Alliser glowered at him, his brow wrinkling into a frown, but he stopped. Jon knew he needed this man on his side. But the last few days had been difficult and disappointing, and right now he just did not need his insolence.

'Can you wield a sword?' he asked the tall one wearily.

'I've used axes and spears back in my village,' he replied. 'My father never had a sword, but I can learn. I want to become a Watcher of the Wall.'

Jon nodded slowly, and turned to the smaller one. 'And you?'

'My name is Iestyn and I'm fifteen,' he said quickly, in a small, nervous voice. Jon nodded again. This one was young, but he could be trained. For now, however, they looked tired and hungry.

'They need rest,' said Jon, ignoring Ser Alliser's sullen expression and instead turning to Edd. 'Take them to their quarters, and make sure they have food. They can start training first thing tomorrow.'

'I wish to become a Watcher of the Wall, too. I want to help fight the Wildlings,' said the boy. The taller one quickly laid a hand on Iestyn's shoulder, and shot an uneasy look at Jon. Jon couldn't help but smirk. At least he was eager.

'There are worse things that Wildlings out there, Iestyn,' he uttered, turning towards the barracks. 'And we're going to need all the help we can get.'


	5. Chapter 5 – Hidden Truths

**Authors Note:**

 **Apologies for the delay in posting another chapter - I managed to fall over my own feet the other day, which has caused ligament damage in my right foot AND a gum infection, as I chipped a wisdom tooth when I landed on the floor… so I've been in the A and E department for the last couple of days, without my laptop D: Killer.**

 **Anyway, here's Chapter 5, yay! Thank you for all the support and the reviews, keep me posted on what y'all think :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – Hidden Truths**

 **Eilya**

Fuck. It had worked. The plan had actually worked. In different, less life-threatening circumstances, Eilya may actually have felt quite offended that she had so easily passed for a fifteen year old boy. But right now, she was so ecstatic, she could have danced.

Instead, she was sat on the edge of the wooden framed bed with a near-crazy grin spread across her face. There were five beds within this set of sleeping quarters, each complete with feather pillows and mattresses and thick, woollen blankets. Eilya had never slept on a mattress before. Or under a roof that didn't leak. A small torch was alight in the corner of the cramped room, its light giving off a small amount of heat, which still seemed to be enough to keep the cold from creeping through the stone walls and the tiny window between hers and Dannard's beds.

The door creaked open, and Eilya quickly jumped to her feet, suddenly feeling on edge, worrying that a fellow roommate might take one look at her and realise that she was a fake, have her thrown out of the Watch. Or worse. But it was only her brother, returning from his bath. 'It's me, relax.'

With a sigh of relief, Eilya sat back on the soft mattress. Dannard collapsed on his own bed and faced her, smiling. His wet hair hung down into his eyes, and Eilya couldn't help but giggle at how goofy he looked. Or at our lucky they were. Dannard laughed back, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly, reminding her of their father's.

'I can't believe that worked!' she exclaimed, tossing her head back.

'Shhh,' Dannard hushed, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door. 'Remember, you need to keep your head down. You can't afford to attract any unwanted attention.'

'As if I would.'

Flashing her a do-what-I-say look, he stood and started to unpack the leather bag. 'If you're going to have a bath, have it now, while the others are still outside, or making supper. The room's on the first floor – the water is already boiled. Just be quick.'

Grabbing a blanket that she had brought from home, Eilya tiptoed down the spiral stone steps, keeping a look out for any form of movement. The halls of the castle were dark, lit only by odd torches that hung from the walls. Occasionally a window appeared, and Eilya could see the men training in the courtyard, battering each other with wooden sticks and clubs. She grimaced, realising what was in store for her. But she'd just have to deal with that later on.

Passing a few more rooms, Eilya finally arrived at the bathroom, and quickly shut the door. It was a big, bare looking room, with more stone walls and a high ceiling. There were seven metal basins, and an area in the corner with ten metal hose pipes, attached to a large steel box that was positioned over coals. It appeared to be boiling water. Opting for the bath, Eilya quickly filled one up using a hose, and added a drop of oil from a nice smelling bottle, which had been positioned precariously on a wooden table by the door. It looked a little out of place in a room with nothing much in it. The bubbles began to froth in the water, and Eilya quickly undressed, dropping her clothes onto the stone floor, tiptoeing on the cold ground until she finally climbed into the bath.

She sighed, the hot water engulfing her aching limbs, and her cold body began to thaw as it welcomed the heat. She cupped the water in her hand, pouring it over her tired face, stretching her toes out. She freed her hair from its restraints, her scalp thanking her profoundly as she soaked all of herself in the bath. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, relaxing for the first time since the night they had left. Semot's pale face started to float into her periphery, as did her father's limp body. Frowning, she tried to push them from her mind, and instead focused on the warmth, running her fingers through the water. It was only now that she realised how exhausted she actually was. Her calves ached from all the walking, and she was only just beginning to gain the feeling back in her toes. She felt light, as though she was floating on a cloud, her mind becoming numb as she rested…

She could hear voices. They were low, and they seemed to be getting closer. Eilya opened her eyes, staring up at the stone ceiling. She smiled slightly, listening to the voices, trying to comprehend what they were saying, as she raised her arm to block out the blinding light from the torch by the door, the water cascading down her body as she-

Shit. She was still in the bath. She was naked, in a bath, her full female body on show, and there were men's voices becoming steadily more coherent. Fuck. Fuck. They were going to find her. Fuck!

Jumping out of the bath, sending water all over the stone floor, she threw her brother's tunic over her head. She was still dripping with water as she dragged one set of breeches over her legs, followed by the others. Stuffing her rope down the trouser leg, the door knob rattled, the men's voices as clear as day behind the wood. Fuck. Her hair. Shit!

They entered the room as she threw the blanket and the sheepskin cloak over her head. Spinning round, she peered at them through the gap in the material. Both of the men were topless, and were staring at her curiously.

'What the-'

'Water's lovely, got to run!' And with that remark, she dashed past them, through the halls and back to her quarters, consciously making the decision that having a bath after a sleepless week had been a fucking ridiculous idea.

* * *

If the journey to Castle Black had been difficult, it was nothing compared to the training in the courtyard that commenced the day after the siblings arrived. Dannard seemed to have adapted quite well after the first few days, his strength building as he trained with the soldiers, working up to duel with the Lord Commander himself after only a week.

Eilya, however, wasn't coping so well. The wooden training swords were heavy, and they blistered and cut the sensitive skin of her hands. She wasn't as used to hard labour as her brother was, as building and farming had been left to the men in her village. That wasn't her fault, it had just been the way things were, how she had been brought up. But as hard as she tried now, she was far weaker than any of the others, and kept getting knocked down by the soldiers of the Night's Watch.

The Master of Arms, Sir Alliser Thorne, had taken a particular dislike to Eilya. He didn't think much of Dannard either, although his snide remarks and bitter tongue would have been wasted on such a profound fighter and sword wielder. So, instead, he kept to insulting her.

'We'll all be dead before you work out how to use that thing, boy,' he snarled one grizzly afternoon, eight days after training began. Eilya was, for the fourth time that session, pushed into the snow by a fellow brother. A couple of men sniggered, but the culprit looked guilty, and began to hold out his hand to help her up. 'Don't you fucking dare,' Ser Alliser sneered through gritted teeth, warning the soldier back.

Blinking back tears of pain and humiliation, Eilya reached for the sword and got to her feet. Steadying herself, she gripped the wooden handle, trying to ignore the pain in her frozen fingers.

'Maybe if you put that fucking hood down, you'd be able to see something,' one of the men jeered, as he stabbed at her with the sword, which missed her by inches. Ser Alliser appeared at her side, his cold eyes boring into her again. She stared back, momentarily worried that he had seen past her disguise, holding her breath, waiting for him to speak.

'Morgans is right, take the cloak off,' he growled, jabbing her boiled leather chest plate with his club, pushing her backwards, away from him. Panicking, Eilya looked to her brother, but Dannard was busy training with the more advanced members, the Lord Commander watching over the current duel.

'I…er…I can't, I'll be cold,' she tried, but Ser Alliser only sneered in reply. 'Please, it was my father's,' she lied. 'Can I just put it in my room?'

He glared down at her, and she flinched. 'Leave it in the eating quarters,' he growled. 'Then get back here, or I'm coming for you, boy.'

She ran towards the barracks, closing the door behind her. Leaning against the wood, she started breathing heavily. The noise from the courtyard could still be heard in here, only more muffled. Panicking more now, she lowered her hood and slowly removed the cloak. What the hell was she going to do?

'Are you alright?'

Eilya jumped. She hadn't seen the man sat at the table. He had short dark hair and was wearing a long sheepskin cloak. He was on the larger side, and looked quite young – he couldn't be much older than herself, early twenties, perhaps? He was reading a leather bound book, and was smiling kindly at her.

'I, er… I'm fine, thanks.'

'You're the new boy, aren't you. Err… Iestyn,' he said, clicking his fingers. Eilya nodded slowly, suddenly conscious that she was no longer wearing the hood. 'Ah, I remember when I first came to Castle Black,' the man reminisced. 'I don't miss the old days much.' He laughed. 'I'm Sam, Sam Tarly.' He smiled again, holding out a hand. Eilya stared at it. She felt rude not to shake it, but she couldn't risk her true identity being found out.

Sam's smile faltered and he lowered his hand. 'It's okay to be afraid,' he said. His voice was strangely soothing, caring. Eilya blinked at him. 'I was afraid when I first started… honestly, I still am.'

'I'm not afraid,' Eilya said, watching him, eyeing him curiously. He chuckled, turning back to his book.

'Well, you should be.'

Blinking again, Eilya opened her mouth to ask why he was afraid. Afterall, he was sat here in the warmth while the rest of them were being pushed and stabbed outside in the snow. But she suddenly noticed a sheepskin hat with leather straps on the table next to Sam. Her eyes flashed back to him. He was immersed in his book again. Diving forward, she grabbed the hat.

'Hey-'

'I'll bring it back, I promise,' she yelled, swinging open the door and rushing back onto the courtyard.

Pulling the hat over her head, she retrieved her sword from the ground and joined the little group again. Fortunately, Ser Alliser had moved on to interrogate someone else for a while.

'Are you ready, boy?' the man called Morgans asked, raising a wooden club, grinning menacingly at her.

'Maybe we should go easy on him,' one suggested. 'He _is_ only fifteen-'

'Fuck off, he needs to learn,' another jeered. 'Besides, this makes us look good. Batter him into the ground!'

Eilya dragged her sword into the air, clenching her eyes shut as it met the club with a horrible thud, the sheer force knocking her face down into the snow. She laid on the frozen ground, wishing she didn't have to get back up. Opening her eyes, she saw a pair of black boots in front of her. Flinching, she covered her head with her arms, awaiting another blow.

Instead, a hand appeared. It was the hand of the Lord Commander, and he smiled crookedly as Eilya lowered her arms and looked up at him. He didn't say anything as she took his hand, just hauled her up onto her feet. Still feeling slightly dazed from the force of the fall, she stared up at the Lord Commander, trying to focus on something.

She quickly wished she hadn't focused on him.

He wasn't quite as tall as other men in the Watch, and was only about a head taller than herself, but he looked strong, with thick upper arms, wide shoulders and large gloved hands. He had thick, unruly, dark brown hair and dark coal-grey eyes, which were both piercing and palliative at the same time. He was young - Eilya couldn't work out his age exactly, but guessed he couldn't be much older than Dannard, yet he looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

'Are you alright?' he asked, his voice deep but soothing. He sounded concerned.

'I'm… yes.' Eilya blinked, and realised she was still gawping at him. Pulling herself together, she retrieved her sword once again. 'Yes, I'm fine, thanks.'

The Lord Commander glowered at the other men. 'This is not how we train,' he snapped. 'We need every single one of you on form – do you not understand what is coming? Once the winter is upon us, we have a war. It's getting closer every day - the last thing we need is a broken man.'

The soldiers didn't say anything. Others had stopped to watch, some grinning at the site of their fellow brothers getting into trouble.

'Right,' said the Lord Commander, straightening his cloak. 'Back to work.'

Morgans sneered at Eilya, but she ignored him. Instead, she watched as the Lord Commander headed towards the barracks, speaking in a low voice to one of his men.

Right now was not the time to hold a crush, but fuck, was he gorgeous.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Advance of The Thenns

**Authors Note:**

 **Battle scene alert! Admittedly, I'm not great at writing about battles, wars and fighting, etc., so please bear with me!**

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – The Advance of The Thenns**

 **Jon**

Jon Snow sat at his desk, staring absent mindedly at a wooden cabinet across the room. His mind felt numb. All he had thought about since his return to Castle Black was what he was going to do. Winter was almost upon them. He had roughly seven hundred men to fight an army of, what, thousands? Hundreds of thousands? There was the pending question of whether their weapons would actually suffice, according to Sam, who reckoned only dragon glass could kill a White Walker. Food and weapons were hardly limitless. And what would become of the Wildlings, now that they were stuck behind the Wall with those things, with no real means of protecting themselves? He thought of Tormund. And then he thought of Ygritte.

He frowned, his brow furrowed, and shook his head to rid his mind of their faces. Ygritte still floated into the forefront of his thoughts sometimes, her determined face forcing itself into his dreams as he slept. He felt guilty. Guilty of her death, guilty that she had ever met him. Guilty that she had trusted him. And now look at him, he was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, leading his soldiers into battle against an unknown, near-legendary army that he was silently certain they couldn't defeat.

Jon sighed. He really did know nothing.

There was a knock on the oak door. 'Come,' Jon called. It was Ollie, holding a tray.

'You missed supper, Ser,' he said, in a timid voice. 'So I've brought you stew.'

Jon smiled and thanked him as Ollie placed the tray on his desk. As he turned towards the door, Jon spoke.

'We're conducting the Oath Taking tonight, for a couple of the men who joined our ranks recently.'

Ollie faced him, a look of hope in his eyes. 'Ser, can I? Can I take the Oath now?'

Jon smiled at his eagerness, but shook his head. 'I'm afraid you're too young, son.' Ollie looked disappointed. 'But if you would like to join us, you can see what is done.'

Dressed in his black wolf-skin cloak, his Valyrian steel sword at his side, Jon led the way down the tower steps from his office to the ground floor. Indicating for Ollie to stay put, he entered the library, looking for one man in particular.

'Sam.'

Sam glanced up from his book. Gilly, the Wildling girl from Craster's Keep, jumped up from the seat beside him. Sam had been teaching her to read again.

'Jon,' Sam smiled warmly. 'Everything okay?'

'Sorry to interrupt,' said Jon, smiling awkwardly at Gilly. He'd never really spoken to her, and she always looked terrified of him, despite him giving the command that she could stay, turning a blind eye to Sam's blatant affection for her. Not that she could be blamed, she'd hardly had many positive experiences of men in her life. It was no surprise that she only trusted Sam, after he saved her and her baby. She stared at Jon with wide eyes, nodding her head in a sort of bow. Jon continued. 'Sam, if I could have a word?'

The two men walked into the corridor. 'Sam, we're about to conduct an Oath Taking for the Canann brothers,' Jon explained in a hushed voice. 'And I thought it would be a good time to ask you, since Maester Aemon has passed, if you… would want to become the new Maester of Castle Black?' Sam didn't say anything. He stared at Jon without blinking, his mouth slightly agape as he took in what Jon had said. Jon quickly continued, worried that Sam might start crying or something. 'I know you need training before you officially hold the title of Maester, I can send you to the Citadel once the Winter is over-' Sam continued to stare, unblinking. '-but the Castle needs a Maester, and no one will travel from the Citadel now winter's nearly here. You knew Maester Aemon better than most. And you can read and you can learn here, in the library – you're hardly the fighting type anyway… you would be the Acting Maester, I suppose, for now-'

'I would be honoured!' Sam cried, throwing his arms around Jon, pulling him into a bear hug. Slightly winded, Jon hugged him back, flashing Ollie an awkward smile as he watched them curiously on the other side of the long hallway.

The three of them headed into the courtyard, where Dannard and Iestyn were stood, shivering in the dark evening snow. Grabbing large torches from the barracks, Jon led the small party out of the castle grounds and across the snow covered land to the entrance of the Wildling woods. He caught his breath, reminiscing of when he swore his own vows. He looked to Sam, who was clearly remembering the same thing. The faces carved into the Weirwood trees stared out at them all, as though calling for the oath of the Night's Watch to be repeated once again.

'We are here to witness our fellow brothers swear their vows to the Night's Watch,' said Jon, as the others crossed their arms across their laps, listening to their Lord Commander. 'We will receive Dannard Canann, son of Rodrick Canann, and Iestyn Canann, son of Rodrick Canann, into our ranks. May they fight with honour and strength, against all that threatens the realm of men.'

Dannard stepped forward, an expression of confidence etched into his young face. This man was a good swordsman. _If only we had a thousand more like him,_ Jon thought. Iestyn followed his brother nervously, and stood next to him. He was wearing a sheepskin hat that looked oddly like Sam's.

'If you wouldn't mind, you will take the vows separately, as my steward, Ollie, and the Acting Maester are currently in training,' said Jon, trying to make this turn of events appear formal. The brothers nodded and Iestyn quickly retraced his steps back.

Dannard swore his oath first. 'Night gathers, and now my watch begins…'

Staring bleakly into the woods, Jon remembered Maester Aemon's words to him. ' _What is honour compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms ... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy._ '

Jon wondered if there had ever been anyone in the Watch who had married, who had fathered a child. Had they stayed? Had they gotten away? He recalled his father executing a deserter before he left Winterfell. Surely that man could not have been the first, after all the centuries that the Night's Watch had existed. But he knew first hand that love could make a man question his duty. Perhaps the vows were more than just a promise. Maybe they were protection against the pain of losing the people one loved, once one knew of what laid behind the safety of the Wall.

Dannard came to the end of his oath. He turned to Jon, his head held high, trying to supress his grin. His brother shuffled forwards, looking frightened again. He stared at Jon, who nodded for him to start his vows.

Iestyn took a deep breath. 'Night gathers, and now my watch-'

'Jon! Jon!' Iestyn stopped and Jon spun round. It was Edd, and he was running towards the little group.

'Edd, this man is taking his vows, what is-'

'My Lord!' Edd interrupted again, panting. 'We are under attack. It's the Thenns, Jon. They're back to avenge the death of their leader.'

Jon thought back to the night of the Wildling attack, the night that Ygritte had died. He had killed Styr, the Magnar of the Thenns, a cannibalistic tribe of Wildlings from the uttermost North. Now they were back.

'How many?' Jon demanded, as they strode back towards the southern entrance, through the tunnel and into the courtyard. Men were running between one another, grabbing weapons; swords, spears, axes and bows were being handed out from the barracks by Ser Alliser Thorne and other rangers.

'About five hundred,' Edd replied, grabbing a steel club and attaching a sword to his leg with a leather strap on his breeches. 'They're coming over the mountain as we speak, the Watcher's saw them, they reckon they're only a few miles away.'

Jon climbed onto the barracks, shouting to silence the men that had poured out into the courtyard.

'Tonight we fight for our lives,' he said, in a strong voice that hardly sounded like his own. 'The Thenn will not take prisoners, they will try to kill every person that crosses their path. There is no reasoning with them. You are fighting for yourselves, your brothers and the kingdoms behind this Wall. Tonight, let's make sure they never return!'

There was a loud cheer and every man - stewards as well as builders, soldiers and rangers, took their weapons. Some headed to the top of the wall, led by Ser Alliser, who nodded towards Jon before he left the barracks, his expression hard. Others defended the entrances to the Castle, or stood in the courtyard, awaiting orders to replace brothers when they were needed. But the majority marched out of the southern gate and onto the battlefield outside of the Wall, awaiting the fate that was now out of their hands.

Jon swallowed hard, trying to push the hollow feeling of defeat out of his mind, and grabbing the handle of is sword, he followed his men into battle.

* * *

 **Eilya**

She had hoped, prayed even, for something – anything – to stop her from reciting her vows. She didn't want to become a man of the Night's Watch – she wasn't a man, for a start, but even if she was, she didn't want to swear never to marry or have children, or to have to stay there until she died. Dannard was different, he fitted in, he wanted this life. But she certainly did not.

However, she never thought that her prayer would be answered by an advancing army of cannibals. Now, as men flew backwards and forwards around her, shouting, wielding weapons, orders being handed out left, right and centre, she started to wish that she was actually back facing the Weirwood tree with the face carved into it. Those circumstances were far less threatening than these.

'Stay in the courtyard,' Dannard told her, bending down so that their faces were level. 'Hopefully, you won't need to fight, but…' He trailed off, looking concerned. 'Just stay safe, Eily.' He kissed her forehead, and gripping the leather bound handle of a steel sword, he ran for the southern entrance.

'Dann!' Eilya screamed, watching helplessly as her brother disappeared into the crowds. But he was gone. She was alone, surrounded by fighters and soldiers, while she was completely clueless.

Time passed. Eilya had no idea how much time, or what was happening outside of the castle walls. Men were still rushing around. Some were sending arrows and rocks up to the top of the Wall, where Ser Alliser and some of the rangers were providing cover for the soldiers below. Other men were dragging the bodies of their wounded brothers into the courtyard, in an attempt to prevent any more harm coming to them. Eilya stared at each of the faces, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't find her brother's among them. He wasn't there. Which meant he was still on the battlefield. Whether he was dead or alive was another question entirely.

'When your wonderful brother's killed, what will you do then, boy?' Morgans sneered. He was one of the men to have stayed in the courtyard, although he had been hiding under the barracks for the majority of the battle so far.

'He's not going to die!' Eilya wailed, tears stinging her eyes at the brute's mocking words.

'You'll be alone, no one will look after you then, boy.' Morgans cackled dryly, flinching as a catapult on the top of the Wall was set off, a giant piece of rock smashing into the ground somewhere outside of the castle.

Eilya couldn't take anymore. She couldn't wield a sword, or even carry a club, but she could use an axe. Dannard had taught her how to cut trees when she was younger, and how to throw an axe at a target board. Yanking one out of a wooden block at the edge of the barracks, she made for the tunnel, knocking into men as she crossed its icy interior. The slowed as she reached the gate. Men were guarding it, fighting off any Thenn that managed to pass through the throng of the Night's Watch, happening dangerously close to the tunnel's, and to Castle Black's, entrance.

'Let me pass,' she said. Two of the men looked at each other uncertainly. 'Let me pass,' she demanded again. 'Ser Alliser Thorne has sent me to fight, would you disobey his orders?'

The men quickly allowed her through, opening the gates a fraction so that she could edge through them. Running onto the battlefield, she inhaled sharply at the sight before her.

Blood coated the disturbed snow as far as she could physically see. The bodies of hundreds of Thenn and black cloaked men scattered the land, their throats slashed, heads gone, dismembered limbs everywhere she looked. Weapon upon weapon littered the ground around them. An equal amount were still alive and fighting, and it looked as though there were more Night's Watchmen than Thenn, but Eilya still didn't want to think of the numbers that had been lost to this brutal battle. She scanned the living, searching wildly, and her eyes finally found her brother, dragging a wounded soldier out of the way of fighting, yelling to others for help. Crying with relief, she began to run towards him.

'Dannard!' she screamed, tears running down her cold cheeks, panting for air between sobs. She screamed for him again, and he looked up, his mouth falling open with shock and unmistakable relief. Jumping to his feet, he staggered slightly, smiling, reaching out to hug her as she continued to run as fast as her legs would carry her.

But, in a moment, his expression changed, and a look of horror flashed across his eyes.

'Eilya!' he yelled. Reaching forward for her again. 'Eilya, watch out!'

It was too late. A blade crashed into her left shoulder with great force from behind her. Howling in pain, Eilya fell to the ground with a deafening thud. She tasted blood, screaming as her shoulder began to burn, as Dannard roared in fury above her.

And then her world went black.


	7. Chapter 7 - Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

 **I noticed after re-reading the last chapter that I had made a couple of spelling errors/typos, which has annoyed the crap out of me because I'm normally such a perfectionist! So I'm sorry for those, I know how annoying spelling mistakes can be when you're getting into a story!**

 **On another note, massive thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed and read my story, I'm really enjoying writing this and it's so wonderful to see that people are enjoying reading it :)**

 **Here's Chapter 7 for your reading pleasure.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7 - Unmasked**

'Wait, please!

'Canann, stand back, he needs attention.'

'Please, no, let me-'

'We must remove his armour.'

'No! Wait, I need to be with him-'

'What the-?'

'It's a girl.'

'Please, I'm begging you-'

'My Lord, it's a girl!'

'Please! She's my sister. She's my sister. _She's my sister_ …'

* * *

 **Eilya**

'Eilya?'

Her eyes fluttered, her vision blurred as she opened them fully. There was a light coming from somewhere, casting dim rays across her face, and she blinked a few times to adjust her sight.

'D… Dann?'

She began to sit up, but flinched from the pain that suddenly erupted in her left shoulder.

'No, no. You need to lie down,' said the voice, pushing her back down.

She was lying on several sacks of feathers, elevating her off the ground in a kind of nest so that she could lie comfortably, thick blankets laid across her body, legs and feet. She was in a small, dark room, with nothing much else in there, apart from a couple of sacks of corn and a wooden shelf near the door. A solitary lantern hung in the corner. She had a damp cloth across her forehead, and some of the water from it was dripping down her neck. Someone was sat next to her, holding a book and a small glass bottle.

'Sam?'

Sam Tarly smiled warmly at her, placing the book and the bottle on the ground. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'I… what, what happened? Where's Dannard?' She tried sitting up again, but Sam gently pushed her back to the make-shift bed, shaking his head.

'Your brother's fine. You can see him soon. You sustained an injury in the battle, a Thenn attacked you. He caught your shoulder with his sword.' Gulping, Eilya glanced at her left shoulder. It was heavily bandaged, and it was aching, but it was still there. She hadn't lost her arm. 'Not to worry though, we've managed to fix you up. We were starting to wonder when you might come too, we've been waiting for you.' Sam smiled again. How could he always be so happy in a place like this?

'We…?' Eilya began to question, when the door opened, and in stepped a girl with dirty-blonde hair, wearing a long, dark sheepskin cloak over a thin cotton gown. She was carrying another damp cloth. She eyed Eilya cautiously, handing the cloth slowly to Sam.

'Yes, this is Gilly, we've been watching over you for the last few days.'

The girl called Gilly smiled nervously. Eilya, despite her state, smiled back. 'Thank you, I hope you didn't go to too much – wait, did you say _days_?'

'Yes, you've been out for nearly a week,' said Sam, replacing Eilya's head cloth with the new one. 'You came down with an infection, you haven't responded to anything, but I made this solution, it was in a book I found…'

Sam chattered on about books and healing potions, but Eilya couldn't concentrate. A week. She had been out for a week. What had happened? Had they won? Where was she now? What about Dannard?

'I need to see my brother,' she interrupted. 'Please, I just… I have to see him now.' Sam nodded his head, and he and Gilly quickly disappeared from the room.

Her disguise had clearly gone out of the window, she thought, as she realised that the bandages were not only wrapped around her shoulder, but her upper body too. She grimaced, wondering how many people had seen her naked torso. How many people knew about her? Was there anyone left to know? She was still wearing a pair of her brother's breeches, but her long hair was now down, and Eilya suddenly realised that her mother's necklace had gone from around her neck. A lump formed in her throat, the pit of her stomach disappearing as she felt a great sense of sadness and loss. That was, until her brother walked into the room, rushing to her side.

'Eily,' he said, the relief apparent in his voice, and she sat up to hug him as best as she could, tears streaming down her face as they embraced.

'She really should be lying down…' Sam began, but Gilly punched him in the leg to quieten him. 'We'll give you two some privacy.' They left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

'Dann, I-'

'Don't worry, the Lord Commander knows. I explained everything,' Dannard hushed, pressing the damp flannel to her head, which had fallen to the bed in her hurry to greet him. 'The most important thing now is that you get better.'

'But what _happened_?' Eilya asked, a thousand questions running through her mind all at once.

Dannard sighed and sat down beside her. His expression looked vacant. Eilya noticed that he had a bruised eye and a cut lip, but other than that, he appeared to be unharmed. 'You came running into the battle, out of nowhere, brandishing an axe, I think it was. It was a ridiculous thing for you to do… but I was so relieved to see you safe. Then, a Thenn came out of nowhere and just… he hit you, it was nasty, he caught your shoulder, but it could have been worse. I, well, I put an end to him, to say the least, and I pulled you back into the castle. The Lord Commander helped me with you – we didn't want to damage your arm anymore, I was worried it might come loose, or you might lose too much blood.'

'The Lord Commander helped?'

'Yes. The battle was already won, the Thenns were retreating, their Lord had been killed. The wounded were taken to their quarters by the other men, but you had to be treated there and then, they had to stop the bleeding before you…' Dannard visibly shuddered before continuing. 'It was hit or miss for a moment. I really thought I'd lost you.' He gripped her good hand, a stray tear running down his pale cheek. Eilya squeezed his back. 'You made it through, but obviously they found out that you weren't, well, Iestyn. I thought about trying to hide it from them, but your life was more important than a stupid lie. I think some of the men wanted us to be kicked out that night, but the Lord Commander was having none of it. And I would have died before I let them lay a hand on you. The Acting Maester has been looking after you, down here in the cellars. They thought it would be the safest place for you to be. None of the other men know where you are. You were safest down here. I've sat with you every day, I promise.'

Eilya nodded slowly, taking all of the information in. 'What happens now?' She barely dared to ask the question. But to her surprise, Dannard smiled.

'That's where I've just been, talking to Lord Snow,' he said, almost excitedly. 'We can stay, Eily. Both of us. I can carry on as a brother of the Night's Watch, and you can shelter from the winter here. The Lord Commander has ordered it. I don't think his decision was unanimous, and you might have to help out in the kitchens once you're well again. But at least we can stay.'

The siblings hugged again, Eilya burying her face into her brother's shoulder, wondering where all their luck could have possibly come from.

* * *

 **Jon**

As expected, his decision was not unanimous.

'Have you lost your fucking mind?' Ser Alliser demanded through gritted teeth, banging his fist on the desk, glaring at Jon as he sat calmly opposite, his black cloak hanging on the back of his oak wood chair. 'How the _fuck_ are we supposed to explain this to the others, Snow? We lost nearly two hundred men – two _hundred_ men in that fucking battle, and now you expect us to keep a liar and a… a cross dressing _whore_ in our ranks, eating our food?'

'The eldest is a good soldier, who has said his vows and who has proved himself worthy of a place within our ranks. I am fully aware of how many men we lost, which is why I cannot afford to lose anymore. As for his sister, I will not cast a wounded girl with nowhere to go out into the snow – she will die out there.'

'Why should we give a damn?' Ser Alliser snapped furiously, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. 'She's no better than that Wildling whore of Tarly's, she'll just be another distraction for the men to reconsider their oaths and their honour-'

'I can assure you, Ser Alliser, that she will be of use to our kitchen staff, she can work alongside the stewards, collect food from the villages, cook and clean.' Jon shifted his eyes to the wooden cabinet again, recalling his conversation with the eldest Canann brother – the _only_ Canann brother - who had pleaded desperately to save his sister: throw him out into the snow, cut his head off if it came to that, but save Eilya at all costs. 'We have a duty to protect the realm of men, and I can't turn a blind eye to those who need protecting. That would go against our vows,' Jon said finally, standing slowly, and placing his hands on the desk he gave Ser Alliser a hard stare. 'I'm sure I don't need to remind you of what happened when Ser Janos disobeyed my orders.'

Ser Alliser scowled, swearing as he left the Lord Commander's office and slamming the door behind him furiously.

Jon exhaled, wondering how many more men would now begin to question his decision and his authority. But he couldn't think about that, there were more pressing issues. They had lost a number of good swordsmen before the Thenns had finally retreated, and fifty had been badly wounded and were still recovering. He himself had barely gotten away with his life, eventually taking down Magnar Loboda after a sword fight that seemed to have lasted an eternity.

He was staring out of the window at men training on the courtyard when Sam knocked and entered the office. 'Jon, the Canann girl has woken up.'

Following Sam down several flights of stone stairs, passing the kitchens and a few store rooms, they finally stopped outside a birch wood door. Muffled voices of the siblings could be heard on the other side. Knocking twice, Jon entered.

Dannard quickly stood. 'Lord Commander,' he greeted. His sister sat up clumsily. Bandages covered her left shoulder and her body down to her waist.

'Lord Commander,' she repeated in a timid voice, nodding her head slightly, not taking her eyes off him.

'Sam informed me that you'd woken,' said Jon. 'I thought I'd see how you are.'

Eilya nodded again, her large blue eyes staring up at him. 'I… I'm okay, thank you.'

'She'll be fine, thanks to you,' Dannard interjected, and smiled warmly at his sister. 'We have a lot to thank you for.'

'Yes,' Eilya added. 'Thank you, Lord Commander.'

Now that Jon looked at her properly, he wondered how he could have ever mistaken her for a boy. She was clearly older than fifteen, for a start. She was a young woman, not a girl. She had a pale, heart-shaped face and wild, chestnut-brown hair that framed her delicate features and rippled down to her waste like a waterfall. Her crystal-blue eyes were wide and almost hypnotic, and they reminded Jon of clear pools of icy water, like the ones in the forests around Winterfell. Her nose turned up into a small point and her lips had a rosy tint to them. Her pale skin could almost be mistaken for pure ivory, and looked as though it would be soft to touch…

'Lord Commander?'

Eilya's voice snapped Jon out of his trance with such force that he took a step back.

'That's fine, no problem at all,' he said quickly, composing himself. 'Just rest up, Sam and Gilly are here for you, and your brother can visit once he has finished his day's training. He has been assigned to the rangers, he has proved himself worthy.' Dannard puffed out his chest proudly at this remark. 'I hope to see you up and about as soon as possible.' Jon smiled awkwardly to Eilya. She smiled back, and so did her giant eyes. She looked exhausted, like she needed someone to comfort her.

Jon swallowed hard and, nodding to Sam, he left the room, striding down the corridor towards the flight of stairs.

He realised that those eyes would probably be visiting his dreams tonight.


	8. Chapter 8 - Late Night Talks

**Authors Note:**

 **Hello again! Apologies for the long delay in posting another chapter – I had a last minute change of heart and decided I'd bite the bullet and apply for Uni, starting September to do Primary School Teaching! I have my interview next week, so provided all goes well, hopefully I should get in! Fingers crossed!**

 **Thank you for all of the reviews, follows and faves I've had since the last chapter; special thanks to Eserechia, who has provided a lot of praise and suggestions – thank you! If you haven't yet done so, check out her own GOT fanfic, Bloody Winter – so mysterious, so good!**

 **Also, can I just add that I KNEW Sam (in the show) wanted to be a Maester – I hadn't read that book before I wrote the chapter, so just call me psychic. And I am totally still in denial over Jon being killed. Not happy at all there.**

 **Anyway - chapter 8 is finally here – I'll try for there not to be such a delay in posting from now on!**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – Late Night Talks**

 **Eilya**

A few moons had now passed since her accident – Eilya wasn't sure how many. Two? Possibly three? It was difficult to tell when thick snow clouds constantly engulfed the sky, turning the days into eternal nights, freezing the castle grounds and blanketing everything in white as far as the eye could see.

There hadn't been any further attacks on Castle Black. In fact, it had all been quite calm, despite Eilya's earlier worries that she would be thrown out or killed for lying. The men continued to train. A few more had joined the ranks – some were criminals and prisoners, sent to the Wall to serve for the rest of their lives. Others were from surrounding villages, who had lost their homes, families and their livelihoods to the snow, the Wall being the only place they had to survive the winter, now it was so nearly upon them. Eilya hadn't met these newcomers, but Dannard had told her stories of them, how he had taken it upon himself to guide these lost souls, having been in their same position only a little while before.

Dannard had moved up the ranks quickly. He held the title of ranger, but it was more correct to call him Alliser Thorne's right hand man. He was good. He was a good fighter and a good trainer. He looked stronger every time Eilya saw him and his confidence soared. Even Ser Alliser treated him with respect now. Eilya hadn't seen Ser Alliser since he thought she was Iestyn, but she doubted his opinion had improved of her, even though it had of her brother.

Eilya hadn't really seen any of the men since her accident, except for a couple that had passed through the kitchens or the dining hall when she was mopping the floors after meals. Her shoulder had healed now, almost to the point that only a small scar remained. It was amazing what Sam had done for her as Acting Maester, and she was so grateful to Gilly for helping her wash and dress every day that she was seriously wounded – it had definitely made things a little less awkward. It had been decided that she would continue to sleep in the abandoned store room on the lower level, instead of returning to the quarters with the other men. Eilya didn't mind this too much, although it occasionally made her feel a little lonely. It didn't help that Dannard was coming to visit her less and less recently. He had his own duties to carry out, she understood that. But it didn't stop her missing her older brother.

From spending so much time with Sam and Gilly, the three had quickly become friends. Gilly had even introduced Eilya to her baby, also called Sam, and was starting to become more trusting of her being around him, even letting her hold him sometimes.

'He's grown,' said Eilya, bouncing baby Sam on her knee one night. She and Gilly had finished their cleaning duties for the evening and had accompanied Sam and the baby around the table in the library. The library had a fairly low ceiling compared to a lot of rooms on this floor, but it was by far the longest, with tall wooden shelves holding thousands of books. Sam was reading again, this time a book about mythical creatures and magic. Eilya often wondered how many books he had managed to read in his time at Castle Black. Seeing as he was the only person to ever be in here, besides herself and Gilly, at least he was never distracted by others.

'He's already outgrowing the jumper I made him, I'll have to make another,' Gilly half-laughed, holding his little hand as her son smiled and cooed at her.

'I'm sure it'll look great,' said Sam, finally looking up from his book. He gazed at Gilly for a moment, a small, content smile on his face. Eilya looked between them and smiled too. Sam clearly loved Gilly, whether he was supposed to or not. It was sweet that love could still exist in the cruelty of winter.

'Have you learnt anything today, Sam?' she asked, handing the squirming baby back to his mother.

'I've found that wolves' blood can be used to heel a poisonous infection from a Wood Spider,' Sam replied, smiling proudly. 'But that's about it. What have you girls done today?'

'Cleaned… that's it really,' Gilly sighed, wrapping baby Sam in a thick blanket as she rocked him to sleep.

'I explored a bit again, too,' Eilya replied, walking over to the small fire place to add an extra log to the dwindling fire, pulling her sheepskin fleece around her thin white gown, which Gilly had given to her. Luckily, they were about the same size, although the gown did sag off her shoulders a bit. Not that she was complaining. 'I only went as far as the weapons room, though. And I didn't get lost this time.'

She took her seat again, pulling a book called _100 Practical Uses for Yarn_ towards her. 'Gilly, do you want to do another reading lesson?'

'Not tonight,' said Gilly, getting to her feet slowly as not to wake the sleeping babe. 'I'd better get Little Sam down. Definitely tomorrow, though.'

She bid them goodnight and left Sam and Eilya to their books and their conversation. At first, she had appeared to be a little reluctant to leave Eilya and Sam alone together, and had given Eilya a pondering stare every time she had asked Sam about something. But since they got to know one another more, she trusted that Eilya wasn't trying to steal him away. And Sam had seemed to like the attention, anyway.

Eilya could feel Sam looking at her and she shifted her eyes from the table. 'What?'

'You never told me where you learnt to read,' he said, looking at her questioningly. 'It's not normal for smallfolk to be able to read, you know.'

Eilya shrugged. 'I taught myself. And Dannard helped a bit. It just seemed like something I needed to do really, I thought one day I might take over Pa's business…' she trailed off. Sam shifted uneasily, not wanting to get into anything that might upset her. 'I'm sorry,' he said finally.

'It's fine.' Eilya gave him a bright smile, possibly a little too bright. She tried not to think about her father too much. It was all still very painful. She certainly wasn't going to cry about in front of anyone. 'When I was very little, I found a note that my Mam had left me before she died. I never knew her, and I learnt to read so I could read what the note said.'

There was another moment's silence. 'She left you a note?' Sam looked a little guilty asking, like he regretted bringing up this topic, but that it was too late to back out of it now.

'She died when I was three. I never knew anything about her, Pa would never talk about her. I found the note and a necklace one day… part of me has always wondered if she knew that she was dying, and that's why she left the note. But she didn't want to upset Pa so she hid it… I don't know. Anyway, that message is long gone, I think I gave it away with a book I passed on to a traveller, something silly like that. I… I lost the necklace too. So I guess I'm a pretty shitty daughter, really…' Eilya looked down at the table, the hollow feeling engulfing her again. She felt a hand on hers, and lifted her gaze to see Sam giving her his trademark smile.

'You're not a shitty daughter at all. You got out of your village and made it here, you survived a Thenn attack… you've done plenty of brave things. Wherever she is now, she'll be proud of you.'

The faces of Rodrick and Semot flashed through her mind. _I left two people to die, she won't be proud of that_. She swallowed, flashing Sam a guilty smile.

The latch on the library door clicked and it opened slowly. 'Sam? You in here?'

The Lord Commander stepped into the room. Sam greeted him cheerfully.

'How are you, Jon? Haven't seen you down here for a few days.'

'Been busy, Sam, I've had another raven from-' He cut short as his eyes fell on Eilya. She smiled shyly at him. 'Er, sorry, I didn't realise you had company-'

'It's fine, it's fine,' Sam dismissed, beckoning for Jon to sit in the chair nearest to the fireplace. 'We often sit here and chat after dinner, don't we Eily. She's been helping me teach Gilly to read, too.'

'You can read? I didn't know that,' said Jon, sitting at the head of the table. He looked tired.

'There's a lot you don't know about me, Lord Commander,' Eilya replied, before she realised what she had said. She blushed slightly, but Jon just laughed.

'I bet… especially seeing as I thought you were boy not so long ago.'

The three of them laughed, and Eilya suddenly felt more at ease. She was beginning to learn that the Lord Commander was a lot kinder than the other men. It was fitting that he and Sam would be friends. Perhaps they had trained together at some point.

'I've had another raven from Stannis,' Jon sighed after a while of them chatting about nothing in particular. 'He wants us to provide supplies for his war on Winterfell again. In return, he says he'll give us all the men we want once he takes the castle.'

'Well… what are you going to do?' Sam asked.

Jon sighed again. 'We're sworn to not partake in wars outside of these castle walls, outside of our own war. But…'

'But?'

'But if he can give us men, if he can give us another army, a stronger army with more soldiers than we have men here… surely that will do us good, won't it? If it can help us defeat the White Walkers, then I have to agree to his conditions.'

Sam nodded slowly. 'It seems that you would.'

Jon sighed for a third time, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. 'I'll send him a raven asking him to return here and sign a contract. I have to make sure he keeps his end of the bargain.'

'Do you think he will?'

The Lord Commander paused, and then nodded. 'Yeh, I do.'

Eilya didn't know who Stannis was, or why he was waging a war on Winterfell. But she did have one question.

'What's a White Walker?'

Jon and Sam shot one another a look. Sam scrambled through the pile of books on the table, pulled one out and began flicking through it.

'They are… they're the army of the dead,' Jon began to explain. 'They're an ancient army, from North of the Wall.'

'They descended on The Children and The First Men eight _thousand_ years ago,' said Sam, showing Eilya a drawing in a book of a solitary figure standing in the midst of a snow storm. 'They kill, and then they revive the dead to fight in their army against the living.'

Eilya looked slowly from the book to the two men sat around the table with her. 'That's just a myth,' she said sceptically. 'It's a story that parents tell their children so that they go to sleep, or the creepy ghost-man will come for you-'

'It's not a story,' Jon interrupted.

'I saw one,' said Sam, shifting in his chair. 'And I killed one.'

For a moment, Eilya didn't believe him. But Sam wouldn't lie about, well, anything. He didn't have it in him to lie. As the two men looked on at her, their eyes were full of sincerity, mixed with something else… fear?

Shit. They were being serious.

'Do the men know what they're fighting?'

'We've told them. A couple of the men have seen the White Walkers, too.'

'Others just don't believe us. There's no convincing some people.' Jon sat back, sounding exasperated.

Eilya nodded slowly. 'How did you kill one, Sam? I thought you weren't a fighter?'

Sam gave a nervous laugh. 'With dragon glass. We found some buried at the Fist, it's the only thing that will kill them – I've read about it since. And you'll fight if you have to save the person you love… it doesn't matter who it is, I'll fight anyone for Gilly.' Sam closed the book. Eilya could feel the Lord Commander's eyes on her. She looked at him quickly, and he quickly looked away. 'Speaking of whom, I bet she's wondering where I am. See you tomorrow, Eily, and don't be a stranger, Jon.'

As Sam left the library, Eilya got to her feet. Jon followed suit.

'I'd better go too,' she said, suddenly feeling awkward that Sam had left them together.

'Yeh, and me. Busy day tomorrow,' said Jon.

'Well, 'night Lord Commander.'

Eilya hurried down the hall away from the library. Had she seemed rude, leaving so quickly? The Lord Commander had said that he had a busy day tomorrow, and he'd looked tired. And what could they have possibly talked about once Sam had left? Still, she probably should have made more of an effort, when he had been so nice and let her stay and all…

Eilya continued to mentally scold herself as she reached the stairwell, when she heard a noise coming from the dining hall. As she listened, she realised it was the voices of two men. _They should be in their quarters_ _at this time_. Curiosity getting the better of her, she crept towards the door and listened through the thick wood. She could hear slurred voices and cups clinking together. Were they drinking?

She continued to listen, trying to make out what they were saying, her ear pressed firmly against the door. The voices went quiet. Frowning, Eilya held her breath, straining to hear, when suddenly the door was yanked open and she tumbled into the hall, onto the hard stone floor.

'I knew I heard somethin',' a man slurred, dragging her to her feet by her hair. Eilya moaned in pain, and came face to face with Morgans, the man who had bullied and taunted her in the training grounds. His mate stood next to him, swaying slightly.

'Lookie here,' Morgans laughed, pushing her against the wall. 'It's our Iestyn!'

Eilya struggled against his grip on her hair. 'Get your hands off me!'

'Last thing I heard, you'd hurt yourself, girl,' he sneered, prodding her shoulder with a finger. Eilya yelped out in pain at the pressure. Morgans gripped her hair tighter, pulling her head down so that she coward under him. 'Do you know what you deserve, girl? Do you know what you deserve for lying to the Night's Watch, pretending you were a boy, when us men are sworn off women for life?' Eilya whimpered, trapped against the wall. Tears began to stream down her face as he dragged her head down further. 'No? You don't know? Well I know what I fucking deserve. Tye, get her dress off.'

Eilya screamed, horrified, as the man called Tye started to grapple with the hem of her gown. Morgans clamped a hand over her mouth, grinning down at her maliciously. Eilya shut her eyes tightly, praying, tears running down her neck and into her hair.

'You'll just have to take it, girl,' said Morgans' cruel voice, as her gown began to rise up her body with every clumsy tug that Tye made. She could hear the clink of Morgans' belt as he unbuckled it with one hand, her screams muffled by the other. 'There's no one here to save you now…'


	9. Chapter 9 - The Rescue

**Chapter 9 – The Rescue**

 **Jon**

Jon wandered slowly through the cold, dark hall, lost in his thoughts. He had stayed in the library a little longer after Eilya had bid him goodnight, to put out the dim fire still struggling to burn in the fireplace. She had appeared to be in a rush after Sam left. She was probably tired, and she'd only been there to see Sam, after all. He had technically butted in on their conversation, Jon realised. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment of her leaving so quickly.

He frowned as his footsteps echoed through the deep hall. Why did he feel disappointed? What could they have possibly had to talk about? He had only been in her company, what, four, five times? One of those she hadn't even been conscious! He was the Lord Commander, anyway. He didn't have time to sit chatting, he had things to sort out, other things on his mind… at least, he should have, only she kept entering his thoughts every time he tried to concentrate on preparing his men. Or every time he tried to clear his mind of stress, when all he saw were those big eyes and her rose-tinted, bee-stung lips…

Jon scowled, mainly at his own lack of self-discipline. As if he needed another face to haunt his dreams at night. He dug his hands into the pockets of his leather clad jacket moodily, when something cold and sharp brushed against his fingertips. Stopping, he pulled out his hand and looked at the object against the light of a torch hanging on the wall.

It was the dragon-glass pendent he had found lying next to Eilya's limp body during the battle against the Thenn army. The blade had broken through the thin, metal chain, but the pretty pendent was still intact. In the rush of getting her to safety, Jon had shoved it in his pocket, and had completely forgotten to give it back to her or her brother.

Staring at the charm, he wondered if she would be asleep yet. Would it be weird of him to go all the way down to her room at this time of night, just for the sake of returning a necklace? Or should he wait until morning? She'd been without the pendent for this long already, another few hours would hardly make much of a difference, but Jon suddenly had the unbearable urge to give it back to her now.

Chewing his lip, he continued to stare at the object in his hand, dithering over his decision, when a shrill, abrupt scream pierced the silence of the hall, making Jon jump. He spun round, staring into the darkness in the direction of the noise. There was silence, and then another scream echoed through the hall, shorter than the last one, as though it had been cut off. There was no way that was one of his men, the sound was too high-pitched. Which meant…

Heart suddenly racing, Jon quickly replaced the pendent in his pocket and began to run, retracing his steps past the library, turning a corner and gaining speed as he passed the upper level of the kitchens, towards the eating quarters and the stairwell. As he got closer, he could hear scrabbling and gruff voices, and the unmistakable sound of a muffled cry on the other side of the door to the dining hall.

Jon forcefully shoved into the wooden door and it swung open, banging loudly against the stone wall. Opposite, were Morgans and Tyedale, two criminals sent from Ironrath for theft and murder, who spun round at the sound of Jon entering. And trapped against the wall was Eilya, her hair knotted in Morgans' fingers, her dress around her waist, her tear-stained face paralysed with fear.

'Let her go,' Jon said slowly, reaching for the small blade he always carried in a pouch attached to his belt.

'L-Lord Commander,' Tyedale stuttered. He was clearly intoxicated as he staggered to his feet, but shifted away from the scene, giving Morgans a frightened glance.

Morgans didn't move for a moment. He glared at Jon, his grip still hard on Eilya, his hand clamped tightly over her mouth as she sobbed and shook underneath. His eyes quickly flicked to the blade that Jon had in his hand, ready to attack if the criminal made any sudden movements. Realising he was defeated, Morgans sneered, but let his hold of Eilya go. She gave a little cry, gasping as she slid down the wall, sobbing into her knees as she took to the foetal position on the hard floor.

Jon had never thought of himself as a man of brutality. No situation should resort to killing if there was another way. He hadn't really wanted to execute Ser Janos Slynt, when he had had to make an example of insubordination and exert his own authority. But right now, as he glared back at these two fuckers, Jon had to mentally restrain himself from slitting their throats and throwing their remains to Ghost.

'You will go down to the cells. You will tell the guard why you are there, and you will stay there until morning. Tomorrow, I will decide on your punishment, and whether I am going to allow you to live.' Jon spoke slowly, threateningly, concentrating on keeping his voice from shaking in anger. 'If I find that you have not gone to the cells, I will have you executed faster than you can begin to explain why. Do you understand me?'

Tyedale nodded his head with such force, it was a surprise if he hadn't hurt his neck in doing so. Morgans continued to glower at Jon, who held his threatening glare back, until he too lowered his head in compliance. The two men skulked out of the dining hall, their footsteps echoing as they took the stairwell that led downwards to the prison cells. Jon would follow them shortly, but first he had more important things to attend to.

He rushed to Eilya's side and dropped to his knees. 'Are you okay? Eilya?' he asked, touching her arm gently, trying to see her face or any sign of harm. She froze slightly at his touch, but raised her head to look at him. Her big blue eyes were filled with tears. She nodded her head slightly in reply. 'Did they hurt you? Did they… did they…?' Jon didn't want to say it. He didn't know how to put it into words without it sounding as awful as the deed itself. To his relief, she shook her head, her eyes still glued to his.

'No, y… you got here… just in time, My Lord. Th… thank you.'

Jon nodded, and was about to get to his feet, when Eilya suddenly threw her arms around his neck. Taken aback, he blinked, her fiery hair tickling his cheek as she hugged him.

'Thank you so much, for saving me Jon, I… I mean, Lord Commander…'

She trailed off, letting him go as she looked at him apologetically. He suddenly felt breathless. Her eyes were even more hypnotic now that he was staring into them in person. They made him feel lightheaded. Her full lips were slightly parted as she waited for him to speak, and as his gaze flicked to them, he swallowed back the urge to lean forward and kiss her.

'Please, call me Jon.'

* * *

Jon ensured that the two criminals were safely locked away in a cell before he finally turned in for the night. However, he refused to see them when asked, still concerned about losing his patience. As for Eilya, there was absolutely no way that she would be sleeping on her own in the store room that night, that was for sure. Firstly, Jon had considered waking her brother, but Eilya was certain that she didn't want him to know. She didn't want to alarm him. Jon also wondered silently if Dannard would react in the way that he had had to hold himself back from. Then he considered asking Sam, but he and Gilly already shared small quarters with a baby, and he didn't particularly want to wake them. And again, Eilya didn't want them to know.

So there was really only one other suggestion.

'The bedroom is through the door next to my desk,' said Jon, nodding over to the other side of the room as they entered his office. 'You're more than welcome to sleep in there. I'll sleep in here, of course,' he added quickly.

Eilya looked around the office nervously, holding her sheepskin fleece tightly around herself. Jon closed the oak door behind him, feeling awkward on her behalf. Maybe this hadn't been a good suggestion. He didn't want to appear strange, inviting a vulnerable girl into his room. 'Or I can sleep somewhere else, if you don't want me here-'

'No,' Eilya said quickly, facing him. 'No, please stay. I'll sleep next to the fireplace, it's your bedroom, I don't want to intrude. I just…' She paused, and her gaze dropped. 'Please don't leave.'

Jon nodded, not wanting to argue when she had made her decision. He got blankets from the large cabinet in his room and brought the feather pillows from his own bed and laid them on the rug in front of the fire that Eilya was poking at with a metal pointer.

'Thank you,' she said quietly as Jon stood upright before her. 'Jon,' she added. He smiled crookedly. They stood for a moment, facing each other. Eilya knotted her hands together, as though trying to find the right words. 'Could you… could you maybe stay here, until I fall asleep?'

Jon was surprised by the request, but didn't show it as he quickly agreed. He headed to the chair behind his desk, sitting slowly as Eilya laid down in amongst the pillows and the blankets. He tried to busy himself, pulling out a piece of parchment and a book so that she didn't think he was watching her, until he heard her breathing steady. Placing the quill down gently, he looked over to the fireplace. Her eyes were closed, one arm was raised above her head, the other rested on her stomach, rising and sinking as she slept soundly.

Jon knew that he could leave now, but he couldn't help but watch her. Her beautiful face looked so peaceful, her eyelashes fluttering every so often as she dreamed. Her lips were parted again…

As he watched her, his own eyes began to feel heavy. His body felt limp as it sunk into his chair and his head rested against the wooden back as he drifted into his own slumber.

* * *

Jon opened his eyes, feeling as though he was being watched. It was still dark in his office, the only light coming from the burning fire in the hearth. He blinked several times, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his desk chair.

On the other side of the room, Eilya was awake, her hypnotic eyes gazing at him as she sat up slowly.

'I'm sorry,' Jon said quickly. 'I fell asleep, I didn't mean to wake you-'

'It's okay, Lord Commander,' Eilya replied sweetly, her voice soft.

'I thought I told you to call me Jon,' he quipped, smiling at her.

Eilya giggled. 'I'm sorry. Jon.' Jon watched her as she stood, the blankets falling onto the rug around her. Stepping over them, she began to walk towards him. Her steps matched his heartbeat, and he swallowed as she approached the desk, stopping just in front of him, looking down as he stared up at her, frozen in his chair. Her pale face had an expression of quiet confidence. She didn't look frightened or nervous anymore. 'I wanted to thank you, for saving me.'

Jon's throat felt suddenly dry. 'I… it's fine, honestly. Anyone would have done the same.'

Eilya giggled again, her eyes hooded, her bee-stung lips parted in the way that made Jon want to kiss them. 'You're too modest, Jon. You deserve to be thanked.'

Unblinking, her giant eyes glued to his, she moved her hands slowly down her body to the hem of her dress, which hung just below her knees. Without a word, she began to pull it up, over her legs, slowly, over her thighs. Jon's breathing quickened as his eyes followed the hem, watching as it raised higher, past her cotton underwear and over her hips. He swallowed again, his lips going dry. He knew he shouldn't be looking, but he couldn't turn away or shut his eyes. As the gown passed her naval, he envisioned himself devouring the sensitive skin with his mouth, kissing every inch of her stomach, down to her underwear, his hands on her thighs as she cried out his name… He groaned, gripping the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he felt himself straining against his breeches. The gown continued to rise, over her abdomen, over her perfectly rounded breasts, over her head, dropping it to the floor as he raised his eyes to look at her face again-

'Jon Snow.'

Jon jumped, the pale face of another all-too familiar redhead glaring down at him.

'Ygritte?' he gasped as he stared up at her, unable to move.

'Jon Snow,' she repeated. One eyebrow was raised on her freckled face, her naked body standing defiantly before him. 'Have you forgotten that you belong to me, Jon Snow?'

Jon continued to pant, trying to move his arms, but couldn't. 'Ygritte, how are you-'

'Because I haven't forgotten,' she continued, staring down at him, not once blinking or breaking eye contact. The room suddenly turned very cold, the cabinet and the desk turning as grey as the stone walls. 'But now you've found someone new.'

'No, no, I haven't I – Ygritte, please, I can't-'

'You need to be punished for forgetting me, Jon Snow.' Ygritte's body moved, her eyes still boring into him. Jon looked behind her to the fireplace, where Eilya was screaming, held against the wall by two heavy-built men with blurred faces.

'Jon!' she screamed, tears running down her distressed face. 'Jon, help me! Help me, Jon!'

'No, Ygritte, please! Ygritte I-'

Ygritte walked slowly backwards, her eerie dead eyes never once leaving Jon's. She had an arrow in her hand and she was raising it with every step. Jon tried to yell out again, but he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could only watch as Eilya screamed at him, struggling hopelessly against the men, pleading him to save her.

'Never forget me, Jon Snow,' Ygritte's voice echoed, as she plunged the arrow into Eilya's heart.

* * *

Jon woke with a start, panting and sweaty. His eyes searched the room frantically, his heart racing. There was no Ygritte. There was no one else, other than Eilya, who was sleeping soundly on the floor beside the fire that had now gone out. She was on her side, facing him, a small smile on her rosy lips as she slept peacefully, completely unaware of his nightmare.

Jon let out a long breath, sitting back against the chair again as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. It was sunrise, the light of a new day broke slightly through the thick snow clouds and through his window. It would be breakfast soon.

Still shaking, Jon stared at the ceiling. That dream had been by far the most visible, Ygritte's words still echoing in his mind as he fought back tears.

 _Never forget me, Jon Snow_.


	10. Chapter 10 - In Denial

**Authors Note:**

 **Thank you to those who have provided feedback and for the kind reviews, all of it is very much appreciated :) Starting to get into the good stuff now, yay!**

 **Here's chapter 10.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – In Denial**

 **Eilya**

Her eyelids fluttered, and Eilya finally awoke from what felt like an eternity of sleep. She yawned, stretching, feeling well and truly rested. It had been by far the best sleep she'd had since arriving at Castle Black, she realised. Eilya sat up slowly, searching the office with her eyes cautiously. It was silent. No one was there. She felt both relieved and disappointed at the same time, Jon had left without saying a word. But, he was the Lord Commander. He was a busy man, he didn't have time to wait around for her to finally wake up.

Eilya stretched, and shifted the blankets that she had cocooned herself in, wondering how long she had slept. Was it still morning? She could hear the faint voices of the men training on the grounds outside, so breakfast and definitely come and gone. Glancing to her left, she noticed a piece of bread and a slab of cheese on a board beside her. She smiled. He had thought about her.

Eilya ate, staring at the books on the shelves opposite a huge wooden cabinet opposite, wondering whether Jon ever had any free time to actually read these. _I bet Sam's read them_ , she thought. Once she'd eaten, she folded the blankets and put them together with the pillows in a neat bundle. She looked inquisitively towards the door leading to the bedroom. She was curious as to what Jon's bedroom would look like, how big the bed would be, what he'd have in there… but she couldn't bring herself to look; he'd let her sleep in his office, but it wouldn't be right for her to go nosing through his personal life. So instead, she left the folded blankets on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Looking around the office once more, her eyes fell on the desk. She decided that she should probably leave him a note to say thank you. Walking over, she sat slowly on his oak chair with the tall back. Tearing a piece of parchment from a long scroll, she picked up the fancy looking quill, dipped it in the ink pot and began to write.

 _Dear Jon_

She frowned. That was far too informal. She screwed up the parchment and started again.

 _Dear Lord Commander_

Dear? Really? It seemed a bit much for a thank you note.

 _Lord Commander, Thank you for saving me…_

 _Lord Commander, Thank you for allowing me to stay in your office…_

 _Lord Commander, I would like to thank you for providing me with…_

Eilya scowled, scrunching up her fifth attempt. Why was this so difficult? Finally, she settled on a simple

 _Thank you, E._

That was enough. He'd get the point. Positioning it in the centre of Jon's desk, before shifting it slightly to the left so that it wasn't so obvious, but so that he would still see it, she picked up her fleece from the carpet and left the office, giving a final fleeting glance to the intrusive thank you note sat on the desk.

Eilya wandered down the stone steps, wondering whether Gilly was free to do some reading. She desperately wanted to tell her about the night before - about Jon saving her from a terrible fate, about him inviting her to stay in his office for the night, telling her to 'just call him Jon', about what all of this could mean… Eilya shook her head to herself, suddenly feeling stupid. Jon was just being kind. He had helped her out in a time of need. He was doing his duty. That was all. He was sworn off women and feelings. And he was the Lord Commander, he was hardly going to go against his vows, was he. Eilya felt her heart drop slightly inside her chest, which she mentally scolded herself for. He was a man of the Night's Watch, it would be ridiculous of her to have feelings for him, it would just end in disappointment! And she didn't even know him, did she. So what if he had given her butterflies when he'd looked at her, she had probably just been nervous, shaken up by the previous events. That's all. It didn't mean anything.

'He's just a stupid man,' Eilya reasoned with herself, walking past the weapons room.

'Who's just a stupid man?' a familiar asked from behind her, making Eilya jump. It was Dannard, smiling as he stood cleaning an axe.

Eilya's heart leapt as she looked at him. 'You are,' she laughed as she hugged his waist. 'You haven't been to see me in ages!' But she smiled at him nonetheless.

'Ah, I'm sorry, I've just been so busy recently.' Dannard placed the axe on top of an empty barrel. He was wearing a boiled leather jacket, but Eilya could see that his arms were bigger, more muscular. He no longer looked like the boy she had left Dead Weather with. Her brother was now a man. 'I'm preparing weapons for the rangers' mission to the free land.'

Rangers' mission? Free land? Eilya's heart suddenly sank. She barely dared ask her next question.

'Do you have to go?'

'No,' Dannard replied. Eilya was overwhelmed with relief, but he actually looked disappointed. 'Not this time. Two men are being sent beyond the perimeter to check for suspicious activity, make sure there are no Wildling groups close to the castle grounds, or something. It's a pretty sudden mission, the Lord Commander told everyone at breakfast. He said that these two men were perfect for it, I think their names are Morgans and Tye-something, do you know of them at all, maybe from training?'

Eilya didn't respond. Jon was sending them away? Could it be because of what happened? They didn't seem to be perfect for, well, any job, but he was sending them on this dangerous mission anyway. Her heart suddenly swelled with gratitude, and it was with great difficulty that she hid her smile. Realising that Dannard had asked her a question, she quickly shook her head.

'Well, anyway, we've been informed that they're leaving immediately, so I need to get these weapons to Ser Aliser,' said Dannard, swinging a large sack of swords and blades over his shoulder. He kissed Eilya's head as he passed her. 'See you later, sis.'

Eilya almost skipped her way to the library, grinning like an idiot in spite of herself. Maybe, just maybe, Jon did care about her.

* * *

Another moon passed, a snow storm following closely behind it. Morgans and Tyedale never returned from their mission. Suspected dead, other rangers were sent to find and burn their bodies. It was a worrying situation for all but Eilya.

Nothing much had changed with her. She had only seen Dannard once since their encounter in the weapons room, when he had visited her abandoned store room to play a board game he had bought her from one of the surrounding villages. After that, he had been too busy training new criminals sent from castles and cities throughout Westeros to visit again.

Eilya had returned to sleeping in her store room the night after her encounter with the Nights Watchmen and Jon. As she'd left the library that night, she'd wondered if he'd be there, or if he would come to find her, and ask her if she wanted to sleep in the safety of his office again, but he hadn't. She had hoped for a few days that he would come to visit Sam again in the library, so she had made sure to sit with him every night after she had finished her chores. But Jon never came. And she stopped hoping. But it didn't stop her thinking about him, or the disappointed feeling gnawing away inside of her chest.

One night, in the very middle of the snow storm, which was so bad that the men had resulted to training in the dining quarters in the day, Eilya, Sam and Gilly were sat around the fireplace, huddled together under a blanket.

'It's even too cold to read,' Sam was saying, placing his book on a pile next to him.

'I can't clean the kitchen properly anymore,' said Gilly, shivering as Sam placed another log on the fire. 'I have to take breaks so my hands warm up!'

Eilya hadn't said anything. She was staring into the fire, lost in her thoughts. Sam seemed to pick up on this.

'Are you alright, Eily? You've been really quiet lately.'

Eilya looked at him at the sound of her name. She was about to smile and reply with 'No, I'm fine', but something else completely came out instead.

'Why did you choose to be with Gilly, when your oath forbids it?' There was silence, and the two of them just looked at her. Eilya suddenly felt awkward for asking such a personal question. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-'

'I didn't choose,' Sam interrupted, and his gaze turned to Gilly. 'It was just something I had to do. She needed help, I could give it to her, Wildling or not. And I loved her. I still love her.' Gilly blushed and looked down at her knees, a small smile playing on her lips. Sam took her cold hand in his. 'Those vows are outdated and old-fashioned. Why would you stop yourself from being with the person you love, for this? I believe you can still be a Night's Watchmen without burdening yourself, even the criminals. It gives you something to fight for.'

Eilya nodded slowly, looking into the flames, thinking about what he had said and about Jon. She was disappointed that he hadn't visited, maybe she'd go as far as saying she missed his company – he was a nice person, after all, and it wasn't like she had many people to talk to here. But she didn't love him, did she? Her heart jumped at that prospect and she suddenly felt uneasy. That was a ridiculous notion, she didn't know him. And nothing had ever happened between them. How could she be in love with someone she'd only spoken to a handful of times? She was clearly going crazy with all these thoughts – maybe she had been cooped up inside the castle for too long, she was developing cabin fever, which was making her mind think funny things. That must be it.

'Anyway, it's not like I'm the only one to break the oath,' Sam laughed. Eilya quickly turned back to him.

'What do you mean?' she asked curiously. He wasn't the only one to, what, love? Have a partner?

'Well, not that I agree with this, but some of the men do visit the brothels in Mole Town now and again,' Sam replied, a judgmental expression on his face. 'I'm sure one or two must have fathered a child at some point.'

'I didn't know that!' Eilya was shocked for a moment. Would Dannard… No, she didn't even want to think about that. He probably wouldn't… but that was Dannard's decision. If he chose to… _use_ those services, that was none of her business and she certainly didn't want to know about it.

'Yep,' Sam nodded. 'And then there was Jon and his Wildling girl…'

Eilya stopped. His Wildling girl? She only just remembered to breathe. 'Wha… The Lord Commander?'

Sam nodded, looking smug by this nugget of gossip. 'Jon was captured by a group of Wildlings, back before he became Lord Commander. They let him live, and he fell for one of the girls. They were inseparable, apparently. When he escaped, she tried to kill him, but Jon said she couldn't do it. Then when the Wildling's attacked the Wall, she came back.'

'What happened?' Eilya half whispered, her mouth dry.

Sam's smug expression faltered into a kind of frown. 'She died,' he said quietly. 'She was shot in the heart with an arrow. The remaining Wildlings were captured, Jon burnt her body in private, in the Wildling forests.' He shook his head slowly. 'Jon's never been the same since. He doesn't talk about her, ever. I think he feels guilty for what happened. He wishes she had never met him, things might have been different then.' Eilya couldn't speak. A million thoughts were racing around in her already overcrowded brain. Gilly and Sam looked at her questioningly. 'Are you alright, Eily?'

'I…' Was she alright? 'I'm just tired, and cold. I think I'll go to bed.'

She didn't reply to their goodnights, she couldn't focus on anything other than this new information about Jon. He had loved before? There had been someone else? Eilya blushed, and scolded herself for even thinking that she was on the same level for Jon's affections as his Wildling girl. His Wildling girl. That made her feel stupid. And angry. All this time, she had wondered, was he thinking about her? Would he consider breaking his oath, just for her? When he already had… only, it had been for somebody else.

She didn't know what was worse: the fact that he _had_ broken his vows for loving someone, or the fact that he hadn't broken them again for her. Clearly she wasn't worth it, she realised, as she stopped mid-walk in the middle of the hallway. She sniffed, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. How could she have been so _fucking_ stupid? She had let her hopes get the better of her, how could she have let herself fall for him? She had never stood a chance, after all those nights she had hoped he would come to visit her again… she felt pathetic.

Pulling her fleece around her tightly, Eilya walked until she reached her room, collapsing on her hand-made bed in an almighty sob, hoping irrationally that she and Jon would never have to cross paths again.

* * *

 **Jon**

Jon awoke, gasping. Staring into the darkness, gathering his bearings, he slowly sat up in his double bed, sweating despite the cold. Why couldn't he stop dreaming about her? He massaged his eyes with his fingers wearily. He was rock hard. And he was furious with himself.

Every night since the night they had slept in the same room, he had dreamt about Eilya. Each dream felt more and more real, going further and further every time. This time, he had practically felt her breath against his skin, heard her moans echoing through his mind as they…

His cock and his heart twinged, and Jon groaned, feeling sick with himself. He wasn't normal. It wasn't right of him to be having these dreams, and he was pretty sure it was against his vows to think about them constantly afterwards. Admittedly, they were easier than the ones with Ygritte, who occasionally visited mid-session with Eilya, with a murderous finale and threatening message that haunted him for days. But sometimes she didn't intrude, sometimes she left him well alone for his unconscious thoughts to have its dirty way with Eilya, and that seemed to bother Jon even more when he woke up.

He didn't know what to do. He'd avoided her since the day he'd left her in the office. He had gone back to leave her breakfast, half-hoping that she had been awake, but she hadn't, and his disappointment had made him realise that it was probably safest to stay away. He had avoided the library, and going for walks at night was out of the question, in case he bumped into her cleaning up. He invited Sam to his office now and then, just so that he didn't run the risk of her being wherever they chose to meet. He had even tried waking himself up every time he realised he was slipping into another one of those dreams, to no avail. It was ridiculous. He hadn't seen Eilya in who knows how long, yet he thought about her more now than ever before. He was driving himself mad.

Jon sighed, lying down on his pillow again. Her smile and her skin were imprinted hotly on his mind, and Jon knew there would be no way of avoiding the temptation of her sweet seduction once he closed his eyes and drifted back into dreamland.


	11. Chapter 11 - Compromises

**Authors Note:**

 **Sorry if there are any spelling errors throughout my stories, a lot of the time I write them quickly and am in a bit of a rush to post them up, so I can skip the mistakes sometimes! I hope they don't make reading too difficult!**

 **Thank you for the reviews and follows/faves. Please continue to post me comments/PM me so I know what you all think :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Compromises**

 **Jon**

The storm had finally passed after bearing down for days on Castle Black, denying anyone access to the grounds outside of the old stone building. A few of the men had taken the time to shovel snow from the courtyard so that training could commence, and now Jon could hear them from his office, wood crashing against wood, shouting and yelling as orders were thrown around by the senior trainers.

Jon sat at his desk, his quill poised over a piece of blank parchment. He had a duty to the Night's Watch. He had sworn to not participate in anything outside of protecting the Wall. This was something he had been adamant about, something he was still adamant about. But things were changing. They were no longer fighting off minor Wildling advances, protecting the castle from small groups of hopeful rebels. Now they had to contend with an army of lifeless mutants, with no idea of how to defeat them. With a heavy heart, Jon reluctantly began to write his message to Stannis Baratheon.

He read over his finished letter, making sure he was happy with it. It was short, to the point. He was inviting Stannis to the castle to talk, negotiate terms before agreeing to anything. Stannis was a man of business, he would know that the Lord Commander couldn't bow to his every command without at least discussing it first.

Jon sealed the parchment with candle wax and the mark of the Night's Watch, a detailed crow's head within the familiar circle outline. Jon took it straight to Ed, who was relaxing against a beam under the barracks in the courtyard, chatting lazily with a man called Pete Holling. Both men jumped and tried to busy themselves as Jon appeared, but Jon didn't really care, particularly as Ed was one of the only remaining men who was truly loyal to him.

'I need both of you to deliver a message,' he said in a hushed voice, making sure no one was in range to hear him. 'To Stannis Baratheon. His army are camping outside of a wood, 7 miles from Winterfell. You take this straight to him, and only to him. Tell him it's from the Lord Commander, he'll understand.' Ed nodded, taking the note from Jon's hand. 'And Ed, don't tell _anyone_.'

Jon watched Ed and Holling ride off from his tower window shortly afterwards, carrying enough food to last the journey. Still in two minds about whether he was making the right decision, he decided that now wasn't the time to be dwelling on it. He had other things to do. Opening another message from the small stack on his desk, he realised it was a response from Ser Denys Mallister, Lord Commander of Shadow Tower, one of the three remaining Night's Watch castles.

 _Lord Commander Snow,_

 _On receipt of your warning message, which I had Maester Mullin consider, I have decided to back you on your quest to find dragon glass. Please inform of us of any assistance you need and we will provide this accordingly._

 _However, we have not yet informed our men of the reason behind the need for dragon glass, only that it may be more effective in battle. We do not yet wish to worry about so-called White Walkers that may or may not be beyond the Wall._

 _Lord Commander Mallister, Shadow Tower_

This was both a win and a defeat. Mallister hadn't witnessed the things that Jon had. Whether it was that he didn't believe him, or just didn't want to believe him, was another question. At least he was willing to help in his search for more weapons, which was more than the Lord Commander at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea had agreed to do. Sighing, Jon placed the message on the desk, closing his eyes as he planned his next move.

But he was interrupted by loud, abrupt knocking on his door. Before he had the chance to answer, one of the soldiers burst into the office.

'My Lord, there are Wildlings at the gate. They… they want to talk.'

* * *

Jon rushed through the gates of the southern entrance, over the snowy ground to where Tormund and a small group of other Wildling folk were stood, their hands in the air. There were only six of them, all looking tired and pale.

'Can you tell your _puppets_ to lower their bows?' Tormund grunted harshly, glaring up at the top of the Wall, where the tiny figures of about twenty men could be seen, in position, their bows poised and pointing directly at the group. Jon scowled, guessing Alliser Thorne was behind this. He beckoned for them to lower their weapons, but only a few responded.

'They won't shoot,' Jon assured them. The others Wildlings gave him an uneasy, questionable look, but he wasn't bothered about them right now. 'Why are you here?' he asked Tormund.

'The White Walkers,' Tormund replied, looking straight at Jon. His heart sank. 'They attacked Hardhome, just after you left. They destroyed homes, killed hundreds. Now the dead belong to them.'

Jon looked to the heavens. The time he thought they had was running out. Fast. 'What will you do now?'

Tormund sighed. 'The survivors have moved inland, to the forests and the areas…' he paused, glancing awkwardly at his companions. 'The areas closer to the Wall,' he finished, his gaze dropping as the others looked defeated. One of the men growled, looking at the floor angrily.

'We didn't have a choice,' the only woman said quickly, not meeting Jon's gaze. She had dark platted hair and a hood that was too big for her head. 'We have children.'

'If you can promise that we will not be hunted,' said Tormund slowly. 'Then we will give the word that it is safer to move into those areas to the other tribes. If you can promise this…' He paused again. 'Then, and only then… will we agree to help you fight.'

Jon couldn't believe his ears. He looked at each of them, a mix of a defeat and hope in their exhausted faces. Swallowing, Jon wondered if he dared ask the one question, the one request that was he was still willing to offer them. But Tormund seemed to read his mind, and got there before him.

'We will not pass the Wall, Snow. My people will not risk their lives, ever. It's this, or nothing.' He gave Jon a hard look, and Jon couldn't help but wonder how much coaxing it had already taken for the Wildlings to agree to moving closer inland. He was hardly going to refuse them.

'Our war is now against the White Walkers, not our brothers - whether they are inside, or beyond the Wall,' said Jon. Tormund and a couple of others nodded as the woman smiled, finally looking at Jon. But the man who had growled, growled again, bearing his teeth as he lowered his arms.

'We'll never be your brothers, fucking Crow,' he sneered, turning and leaving. The others followed him and, with one last look at Jon, Tormund left as well.

Jon was breathing hard as he started back for the castle, his mind spinning with the dilemma of retelling the encounter to his men and to Alliser Thorne, of his newfound pact with the Wildlings and of the advancing army of the dead.

* * *

 **Eilya**

'Y… You're leaving?'

Breakfast had not long finished, and Eilya was in the process of cleaning the long wooden dining tables with a cloth and a bucket of water, when Dannard had appeared, a large leather sack over one shoulder, his black wolf-skin cloak slung over the other.

'Alliser Thorne was commanded to take his best men, I guess I should take that as a compliment,' Dannard smiled, shrugging despite his heavy belongings.

Eilya dropped her cloth, slumped onto a stool and began to sob into her hands. 'But y… you'll… die out there!' she whimpered, as Dannard quickly sat beside her. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he turned her to face him and lowered her hands gently.

'Hey, don't cry,' he said softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. 'Nothing out there is a match for me! Don't you even worry yourself.'

Eilya sniffed, gazing into her brothers blue eyes sadly. He didn't look sad. In fact, he looked excited, and that made her feel momentarily annoyed. But she didn't want to start an argument with him, not right before he went out beyond the Wall. She sniffed again. 'When will you be back?'

Dannard's smile faltered, and he dropped his gaze. 'I'm not sure,' he replied honestly. 'The Lord Commander wants us to track the surroundings, look out for anything… strange.' He bit his lip, as though wondering whether he should continue. He looked at Eilya again, and spoke quietly. 'There's… things out there, Eily. Things that you nor I could even dream about, things that… well, aren't like us. Some of the men don't believe it, they reckon the Lord Commander's going mad, believing old stories, but I don't. He's a good man, and a brilliant leader. He _knows_ what's going on, better than anyone. And I have to do my duty, for the Watch.'

Dannard kissed her forehead as she swallowed back more tears, before picking up his belongings and leaving the dining hall, leaving Eilya alone. She stared at the spot where her brother had sat moments before. 'I know,' she whispered, in response to everything that Dannard had just said.

* * *

A couple of days had passed since the best of the rangers had left on their dangerous mission. It felt longer for Eilya, who had been waiting on tenterhooks for information, listening in on any conversation that passed her by, badgering Sam every few hours for anything new he may have heard from the Lord Commander. But there was nothing.

The grounds felt quieter since they had left, too. For the first day, no training commenced at all, as there was no one there to deliver it or to watch over the soldiers. On the second day, Jon had made sure that there were men training. After cleaning up, Eilya had stood and watched him through a small grimy window in the dining hall, as he weaved through the men, giving orders, showing the weaker ones how to defend themselves.

He wasn't like Ser Alliser, Eilya thought, standing on her tip toes to see him clearly. He was kind, not just to her, but to others. He cared. Then she had felt an unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach, a mix between grief and guilt. She felt bad for having been annoyed at him. He was the Lord Commander, he didn't have time for her and her silly, girlish daydreams, or her fantasies of him possibly liking her, too. She was lucky he had been there to save her, she should be grateful that he hadn't let her sleep alone that night. No one else would have been quite so kind. And she couldn't blame him for Dannard leaving… her brother was a Night's Watchman now, it _was_ his duty. Leaving the window, Eilya had at that moment decided that she would leave her dreams and her anger behind, too.

However, there was obviously a lot of pent-up anger between the soldiers, as later that evening a fight broke out over supper.

'I'm not sure how it started, miss. Two of the men – builders, I think they are, miss, they were yelling, and then one of them said something, and then they just started fighting!'

Gilly shook her head slowly, dabbing at a small wound on Ollie's forehead as he sat and explained enthusiastically of the events. 'And then?'

'Then, then some others joined in, and it was funny at first, but then one of them was bleeding, miss. They were all separated after a while, but someone hit me… but I didn't fall, I swear!' Ollie turned quickly to look at Eilya too, who was holding a bowl of warm water.

'I bet you didn't,' she laughed, as Gilly pulled his head round to face her again. 'But why didn't the Lord Commander stop them?' Eilya smiled, trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her heart as she asked Ollie about Jon.

'He wasn't there, miss,' Ollie replied, keeping his head as still as possible. 'Sometimes he's too busy, so I take supper to him-' The boy stopped short, looking alarmed. 'Miss, I need to take his stew to the Lord Commander, he'll be expecting it, miss!'

'I can take it,' Eilya said, before her brain had time to register that thought. Ollie looked at her, obviously deliberating her proposal.

'If you're sure, miss-'

'Yes, of course,' said Eilya, jumping to her feet. 'Our Lord Commander has to eat, doesn't he?'

* * *

 **Jon**

All too often, he would find himself staring at that wooden cabinet, Jon realised, as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, dropping a message he had been skimming over onto the desk in front of him. He had been sat there for hours, reading but not actually concentrating, thinking but not coming to any conclusions. He was exhausted, and yet he couldn't switch off. Jon closed his eyes and momentarily began to wonder about the dream he might be having that night, when there was a small knock on his office door.

'Come in, he sighed, opening his eyes and placing his quill back in its holder. The door opened slowly, and in stepped Eilya, holding a tray, staring back at him nervously.

Jon jumped up from his chair quickly, and stood awkwardly behind his desk. 'Eilya,' he started, as the door closed behind her. 'What, er… what are you doing here?' He realised how rude that must have sounded, and mentally slapped himself. 'I mean… what can I do for you?'

'My Lord, I have brought you supper,' she replied quietly, bowing her head to the stew on the tray in her outstretched hands.

'Eilya, please,' Jon sighed, to which Eilya looked suddenly alarmed. 'Please, just call me Jon.'

Eilya physically calmed down, and smiled slightly as she continued. 'Jon. Ollie has had… a bit of an accident.' She crossed the room nervously, placing the tray and a napkin on the desk before Jon.

'An accident?' Jon asked, concerned, ignoring the food. He didn't feel hungry. Not while she was there, standing so perfectly in front of him. He had been doing his best to avoid her, to keep her away, but now she was here, on the other side of the desk, almost close enough to reach out and touch…

Her voice broke his thoughts. 'There was a fight, in the eating quarters. Someone caught Ollie – nothing major, the fight was stopped shortly afterwards.'

Jon rolled his eyes. He had forgotten that there was no one in any form of authority that had been available to attend supper, other than himself - he should probably be counting himself lucky that no further damage came to anyone or anything.

'Well, men will be men, I suppose,' he smiled, and Eilya smiled back.

'I should know, I grew up with one…' her smile faltered slightly. Her blue eyes dropped their gaze, and she suddenly looked sad. Jon knew she was thinking about her brother, and a pang of guilt hit him, out of nowhere. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the horrible emotion.

'Dannard will be fine,' Jon said slowly, carefully. 'He's a good man.'

'He said the same about you.' Eilya smiled at him, wistfully, before she appeared to find herself again. 'My L… I mean, Jon, I'm sorry, I will leave you to-'

'Are you worried about him?'

Jon asked that without meaning to, without his brain telling him to. Why? Of course she was worried about him, it was her brother, he was beyond the Wall. Why the hell did he ask that?

'Yes. I worry about Dann all the time,' Eilya admitted, twisting her hands. 'He's brave… but, I worry that his bravery will eventually get the better of him. But then, he's always been safe, with all the stupid things he's done. I know, through it all, I have to stay positive.'

That wasn't what he had wanted to ask, Jon suddenly realised. He didn't need to know if she was worried – everyone was worried, everyone plus himself, and no one had an answer, no one could tell him what he should do, how to save them all. Jon swallowed, feeling her gaze on him, her big eyes burning into his, and he wanted to grab her – he wanted an answer to the question that had been burning his brain without him even realising.

'How do you carry on?' he asked, sounding calmer than he felt, trying to hide his desperation behind a steady voice. 'How do you stay… positive?'

Eilya blinked, visibly taken aback by the question. She didn't speak for a moment, staring up at him as she formulated her answer. Jon looked back, suddenly feeling weak. All this time, he had been thinking, planning, with nothing, no answers, no conclusion. Now he just felt tired. He wanted to reach out and hold the girl standing on the other side of his desk, he wanted to feel something other than worry, and she was the only person who could give him that. This was more than just the things he dreamt about doing with her. The feeling he craved was something else entirely.

But he couldn't touch her. He couldn't move. All he could do was ask.

'I guess I just keep thinking about what comes next,' Eilya replied finally. 'Winter can't last forever, spring has to come eventually, right?' She gave him a small, honest smile, one that he wished beyond anything he could return. 'If you can't be positive, then one must ask, what's the point? All we can do is… hope.'

Jon didn't say anything, and Eilya left quickly afterwards. He watched, not wanting her to leave, but not knowing what to say. He couldn't hope, he had nothing left in him to hope. Her answer had left a hollowness in the pit of his stomach, making him feel scared and lost, and it only worsened as she left him again, closing the door between them without so much as a goodnight.


	12. Chapter 12 - The Stolen Kiss

**Authors Note:**

 **Stolen a teeny bit of Jon Snow's speech to the Wildlings in this one, see if you can find where! ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 12 – The Stolen Kiss**

 **Jon**

It had been a sleepless night. Jon laid in his bed, staring into the darkness at the wooden canopy above him, engulfed in the silence as his mind swirled with endless thoughts.

How could she be calm now that winter was upon them? How could she be positive when her brother was gone, possibly forever? At one point, Jon almost felt angry at Eilya, the girl who he had _allowed_ to stay when she had nowhere else, the girl who had been threatened by soldiers, bullied by the First Ranger, forced to clean and fix garments in order to earn her keep… _how_ could she be calmer than the Lord Commander? When he spent every waking hour worrying, second guessing his every move, how could she sleep soundly and laugh and _hope_?

The memory of her sleeping on his office floor and her gentle smile suddenly sprung into his mind, which filled Jon with remorse. It wasn't Eilya's battle. It wasn't her fault. She had lost her home to the cold, her brother to the Watch, she had nothing left outside of the castle. Really, they weren't so different… She should be a lesson to him, if she could hope, then he should too…

Jon finally fell into a surprisingly restful sleep only a short while before the sun began to rise. He dreamt of her next to him, lying on her side, the duvet covering her soft skin as she smiled at him, warm sun illuminating the room. And when he woke, he wished that his dreams could be his reality, as he was doing more and more so recently.

* * *

Jon sat at the long table at the head of the dining hall while his men ate porridge and bread, talking amongst themselves as they devoured their breakfast. He was sat alone, which he actually welcomed, as Alliser Thorne normally sat beside him on the far end, glaring and barking into the crowd, greeting Jon's attempts of conversation with snide remarks and growls. Sam, who now sat at the long table on Jon's right side was also absent, probably in the library or the store room, studying something new. It left Jon with his unusually upbeat thoughts, staring into space as he stirred his lumpy porridge absentmindedly.

Out of nowhere, he stood. Slowly, the men noticed, and one by one they stopped talking and looked to him. Jon didn't really know what he was going to say, but felt that he should share his new found optimism with them.

'Winter is upon us,' he began, as the men looked on, one or two turning and giving the other a grimace or an uneasy glance. 'There are few of us, but training is improving, and we becoming stronger, as a unit.' Jon wasn't quite sure where he was going with this, but after his thoughts and worries of the night before, he had come to a realisation. Eilya hoped – however irrational, however unreasoning, she still hoped, and that was all any of them could do now. Jon wasn't sure whether this was a game-changing discovery, or whether he had finally gone mad – whichever, he now felt more positive, calmer even. He almost felt confident that the winter couldn't last forever, if they could fight off the White Walkers for long enough, spring would one day appear again, eventually…

'Whatever's out there - beyond the Wall, beyond civilisation - we are the Night's Watch. It is our duty to protect the realm of men, never forget that.' There was a murmur of agreement, a few men nodded their heads. 'Whatever's out there waiting for us, we won't cower away from - we will stand, and we will see what fear is, in their eyes, not ours!' Men began to cheer, some raising their flagons, others standing. 'We have courage, we have weapons, and we have an army. True, there might be a thousand of them – a million of them, but we have the hope of spring, and it's only a season away. There _is_ always hope, for all of us - if a peasant girl can hope, we all can!' As he said that, shouts and cheers echoing around him, he thought of Eilya and her honesty and her smile and her beautiful eyes, and his heart somersaulted and he grinned. 'We have the Wall. And we have our honour. And even then it may not be enough, but at least we _give_ the _fuckers_ a fight!'

The men cheered louder than ever, slapping their brothers' backs and talking loudly and positively while they finished their breakfasts. Jon felt elated, and he grinned like a child as he mentally made a note to thank Eilya for inspiring his speech.

* * *

 **Eilya**

Eilya had eaten breakfast in the back of the kitchen, as always, and after clearing away the pots and pans, she had been waiting for the men to disappear into the training grounds or for the stewards to head off and begin their chores so that she could start her own in the dining hall. Sat on a barrel, drying ceramic bowels with a rag, she peered through the small gap in the double doors, watching the men talk between themselves. Her eyes fell on Jon, who was sat at the main table on his own, staring at his food as his mind worked. She immediately felt butterflies, as she stopped drying the bowel, biting her lip as she studied his features. He always looked so down, so contemplative. And the questions he had asked her the night before… he seemed so lost.

 _If only I could make you feel better._

Eilya blushed at the intrusive thought and shook her head at the image of her and Jon together. It was just a silly crush, one that she was _supposed_ to be forgetting about. As if she would even know what to do in that situation, anyway. She had never _done_ anything like that before… she had kissed a boy when she was fourteen, and then there had been that guy from the neighbouring village, who she had seen a few times. He had even told her that he wanted to marry her someday, but he was a bit short, and he didn't like that she got on with the other boys in her village, so she had stopped seeing him after a while. But that was it, no experience nothing. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what Jon would look like with none of his leather armour on _at all_ …

Lost in her thoughts, Eilya watched as he stood and began to talk to his men. It surprised her how he could all of a sudden turn from looking so miserable to appearing full of confidence, providing the most optimistic speech she had ever heard.

'…we will stand, and we will see what fear is, in their eyes, not ours!'

Eilya smiled as his men cheered around him. Jon was a brilliant leader, her brother was right. If anyone was going to persuade the soldiers to fight the army of the undead, it would certainly be him.

'There _is_ always hope, for all of us - if a peasant girl can hope, we all can!'

Eilya stopped and her smile disappeared instantly. She dropped the bowel she had been holding, which smashed on the floor beside her, but she didn't even notice. Did he just say that? Jon was still talking, men cheering, hollering and shouting. If a peasant girl can hope… did he mean her? She thought back to their conversation the night before, where she told him that all they could do was…

She stood so quickly the barrel almost fell over. She covered her mouth with her hand as she seethed, partly worried that she would start crying in humiliation, and partly worried that she might burst into the hall and start screaming at Jon. How _dare_ he use her as a spectacle of inferiority. She left the kitchen as the men continued to cheer, their voices like giant fog horns bursting through her anger, as she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth against the embarrassment that ached in her stomach.

* * *

'You must have heard him wrong, Jon wouldn't have said that.'

'I _didn't_ hear him wrong, Sam. That's what I heard because that's what he said!' Eilya snapped, pacing the library between the door and the fireplace, passing Sam each time as he sat at the table with another stack of books. Eilya had been furious all day. She had even swapped cleaning the dining hall with Gilly's chore of washing the men's clothes – Eilya's least favourite job – just so that she didn't have to be in the room where Jon had tarnished her name. Or her honour. Or something.

'Then, he wouldn't have meant it like that. I know Jon, he's not a spiteful person, he-'

'He didn't do it out of spite! He did it because… because… well, he obviously thinks he's better than me!' Eilya sighed, and sat at the table next to Sam with her head in her hands. She had already been through this mental dilemma, and just as she thought her and Jon could actually get on – maybe not in the way she wanted, but in _some_ way - he went and did this. Sam just looked at her calmly, which annoyed her even more. 'Shut up, Sam.'

'He didn't mean it like that, I promise you. And even if he did – which he didn't! – why should it bother you? You know you're more than a peasant girl, I know you're more than a peasant girl, and so does your brother. What does it matter if Jon thinks you're 'just a peasant girl'?'

Eilya opened her mouth, and then closed it. What was she supposed to say to that? She opened her mouth again, as Sam raised an eyebrow and gave her a small smile.

'W… what? I don't know,' Eilya stammered, cursing herself for blushing.

'I know why,' Sam said knowingly, turning to his book, the same smile playing on his lips.

'What? What do you know? There's nothing to know!' Eilya demanded and then insisted, sitting back in her chair and attempting to look innocent.

Sam raised his eyebrow again. 'You clearly have feelings for Jon,' he said simply. Eilya scoffed but blushed harder, and Sam had all the clarification he needed. He turned a page in his book as he chucked to himself.

Angry, embarrassed and flustered, Eilya snapped again. 'I do _not_ 'have feelings' for Jon! In fact, I'm going to go up there _right now_ and _prove_ that he is the insolent piece of _shit_ I know he is!'

'Eily, don't, not now-'

But she was already out of the door. Stalking through the long hall to the stairwell, Eilya could hear the voices of men on the floors above her and outside. The sun had set, so the soldiers had finished training, and were now waiting around for supper to start. Which meant that the Lord Commander would be nowhere else but in his office.

She took one flight of stairs, and headed towards the tower to the office, not once breaking her fast pace. She began to wonder what she was actually going to say, but her anger kept her going – Jon might not need to hear how upset she was, but she needed to tell him, or the frustration would eat away at her.

She stormed up the tower stairs, until the oak wood door came into view, and without knocking, Eilya burst into the office.

Jon looked up from his desk opposite, dark eyes wide in shock. Eilya wondered for a moment whether she had gone too far, but he had hurt her and she was in it now.

'Eilya.' Jon's expression seemed to soften. 'Is everything alright?'

Eilya breathed slowly, ignoring his question. 'We need to talk,' she said through gritted teeth, closing the door more carefully than she had opened it.

'Sure, do you want to sit down?'

'No, I'll stand, thanks.'

Eilya moved into the centre of the room, gazing at the burning logs in the fire before she turned back to Jon. His cloak was slung over the back of his chair, his jacket hung open, revealing a white tunic shirt that was slightly agape, showing the top of his chest under his neck. He was staring at her, a concerned frown on his face. 'What's wrong? Has something happened?'

'I heard your speech earlier, to the men,' Eilya began. She realised she was knotting her fingers together, and immediately stopped. Now that Jon was staring at her, she had lost her gusto a bit, and was starting to feel nervous.

'Oh, really? What did you think? Did you like it?' Jon grinned and stood. For a moment, she was caught off guard by his gorgeous smile, but she had to focus.

'No, I thought it was… hurtful. It was cruel, actually.'

Jon's smile dropped, and he stopped a few feet away from her. 'What? Why, what did I say?'

He actually looked disappointed, and Eilya couldn't help but scoff. 'Why?!' she repeated, laughing although it wasn't funny, her anger rising again. ''If a peasant girl can hope, we all can'. That's what you said, wasn't it? Even a peasant, and for that matter, a _girl_ can hope? Did you think I was _that_ inferior, I was _so_ below you to even _hope_? Is that really what you took away from last night?' Jon stood with his mouth open, but Eilya carried on. 'I'm sorry that I even answered your stupid questions – I thought I was doing you a favour or something, but no, clearly I was just being used as a joke for your pep-talks!'

'Eilya, I swear I didn't… I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry, I meant that if someone like you can, then the rest of us _should_ , I didn't-'

' _Someone like me_?' cried Eilya incredulously. 'What, a peasant, or a girl? You know that some of your only decent men are smallfolk, I'm sure I'm not the only one you've offended-'

'I _didn't_ mean it like that,' Jon sighed. He looked aggravated as he ran his fingers through his dark, curly hair, taking a step towards Eilya as she stepped away instinctively.

'Then what did you mean, _Lord Commander_?' she snapped, already dreading the answer. 'Tell me why 'someone like me' shouldn't be able to-'

'I never said shouldn't!' Jon snapped, silencing Eilya as he glared at her. She glared back at him as best as she could, trying not to look frightened, despite the anger in his voice. Jon looked away, shutting his eyes. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…' He opened them again, and turned slowly back to her. He looked sad as he spoke again in a gentle, quiet voice. 'I meant, that if someone who has lost everything can still hope for something better, then it's a something we can all do. Some of the men have lost their homes and their families too – _I've_ lost my home and my family too… what you said, well, it inspired me to feel better about all of this.' He looked around the room and sighed. 'You're right, all we can do is hope. I _never_ intended to offend you, I'm sorry.'

Eilya breathed, taking in what Jon had said. Despite his explanation, despite his reasoning, she didn't know what to think. She hadn't exactly thought that she had lost everything, not while she still had Dannard, but now that he had left on the mission… Eilya suddenly felt suffocated. She _had_ lost everything, if Dannard was dead, if he was never coming back, then there was nothing left for her, anywhere.

'I…' She didn't know what to say, but she didn't want Jon to see her cry. She just wanted to get out. She began to back towards the door. 'If I have _nothing_ , then I'll just leave.'

'Leave? You can't _leave_.' Jon looked nervous, concern thick on his words.

'Yes, I'll leave. I'll leave Castle Black, and you can inspire your men with the story of the girl who… who died in the snow, or something, I don't care! I don't care.' She began to turn, feeling for the doorknob, when suddenly Jon lunged forwards, grabbing her hand away from the handle and pushing her against the wall, pinning her hand above her head with his. He stared deep into her eyes with his wide coal ones, and Eilya didn't even attempt to struggle as her breath caught in her throat.

'If you leave… then I really will have nothing,' Jon breathed. His eyes were sincere, as though pleading with her, his face inches from her own. She could feel his breath on her cheek and it made her heart race and her legs quiver. Jon's eyes flicked to her mouth and she subconsciously bit her lip. His Adam's apple dipped as he swallowed and Eilya couldn't even blink as Jon slowly looked back into her eyes.

'And… if I stay?' she whispered, her heart thudding in her ears.

For a moment they just stared at each other, until the gap was finally closed between them as Jon's lips claimed hers. The kiss was slow at first, and Eilya felt her anger instantly disappear as she began to melt. Jon unpinned her hand, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers snaked over his shoulders, losing her fingers in the thick mess of dark hair. Jon groaned, deepening the kiss as he pushed her fully against the wall with his body. He kissed her with more force, pulling her hips into his. He was hard, Eilya could feel him against her upper thigh as his kissing became deeper and hungrier, more wanting, and it made her feel weak at the knees. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself, as she raised her leg slightly so her thigh brushed against him once more, and he groaned again, tightening his grip on her hips. Eilya gasped, breaking the connection as she became overwhelmed with lust. Jon was panting now, his forehead against hers as she stared into his eyes.

'I want you,' she heard herself whisper, and she moved her mouth to whisper again against his lips. 'Please, My Lord, please take me.'

She was unsure of what might happen next, but Eilya certainly wasn't expecting – or hoping – that Jon would let go of her. His eyes widened, no longer lust filled and turned on, but more terrified and full of regret. He took a step back from her, followed by another. Eilya quickly stood straight, suddenly feeling very exposed as he stared at her with a look of horror on his face.

'Eilya, I'm… I'm sorry, I…'

Jon ran a hand through his hair as he turned slowly to face the fire, his mouth agape. Eilya could feel the blood pumping in her ears again, only this time out of humiliation and sheer panic. Without a word, she reached for the doorknob and escaped the room, running down the stairs with her heart in her throat, leaving Jon to call after her without a reply.


	13. Chapter 13 - Rangers' Return

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you to everyone for all the kind comments and feedback! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 13 – Rangers' Return**

 **Eilya**

She wasn't sure how long she had been sat there, upright on her bed, mindlessly running a stray feather from one of the sacks through her fingers, staring at nothing as the dim light from a candle in the corner of her room faded into darkness. Supper was long over, not that she could have faced food after the events of that evening, and the noise of movement and talking had since died, so it was definitely late. But, at that moment, Eilya was unable to comprehend time, or anything else really.

Jon had kissed her. She had played the scenario through her mind countless times now, but that was a fact – _he_ had kissed _her_ , not the other way around. No, she hadn't done anything to stop it, initially, and although it made her blush furiously to admit it to herself, she wished she hadn't said anything at all to him in her moment of desire. Things may have gone further if she had _just_ kept her mouth closed…

Eilya groaned, covering her face with her hands. On one hand, she felt embarrassed, annoyed at herself for allowing anything to happen between them. _Why_ hadn't she just gotten out of there? _Why_ did she get caught up in the moment? Nothing good could possibly come of any of this, things had officially been made worse. But, on the other hand, Jon had kissed her. Lowering her hands, she bit her lip, straining to hold back a guilty smile. _Jon had kissed her_. Did that mean he liked her? He had told her, that if she left, he would have nothing. Did he mean that? His apology _had_ seemed so sincere, and the way he had touched her and kissed her and held her… Her skin tingled just thinking about it. Lying back on the feather sacks, Eilya stared into the darkness, supressing the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, and the ridiculousness of the prospect that Jon just _might_ feel for her what she could no longer deny she felt for him.

* * *

 **Jon**

He had made things worse. How could he have been so _fucking_ stupid? At his desk, where he had been for heavens knows how long now, Jon sat with his head in his hands, staring at the cabinet across the room once again, mentally battering himself for being so foolish.

 _Why_? _Why_ had he kissed her? What in seven hells did he think he was doing? That had been the problem, he hadn't been thinking, he'd just acted on instinct, on sheer desire. He had gotten too close to her and he couldn't bring himself to pull away. The way she had looked at him, her eyes locked on his, as though daring him to go further… And her lips had been parted again in that way that got to him, and he hadn't been able to resist finally having them on his, feeling her body against his own…

His stomach lurched with desire again and Jon groaned. He could still taste her kiss. His skin and his lips tingled and his mind was still intoxicated by her smell and her touch. If he'd had it bad before, it was worse now, and he only had himself to blame.

Particularly as she would probably never speak to him again.

Jon frowned, his brow furrowed as he remembered her words, pleading him to take her, and he had wanted to, more than anything in the world, he had wanted to. But then… he hadn't. She had been right there, literally in his grasp, it was everything he'd been dreaming about for weeks, and suddenly, someone else had been staring back. Someone he had vowed to protect, who he couldn't save, who he let down and who had died, because of him. Ygritte had ambushed his thoughts completely, his guilty secret destroying his one chance of momentary happiness and bliss. And as Ygritte disappeared, and Eilya returned, he'd felt sick to his stomach. Because it was more than just lust he felt for Eilya, he'd known that for a while, and somewhere, however impossible it was, Jon thought Ygritte did too. And he couldn't protect Eilya, he couldn't protect anyone. He couldn't bear to lose her, and she was better off without him, however much it had killed him as her soft face changed to one of resent, and she had left him without a word, again. Alone, again. He had let her down, again.

His vows echoed in the very back of his mind, like an empty promise long forgotten. Burying his head in his hands, Jon swore at himself, unable to bring himself to care that his lack of honour was bearing down on him like a storm cloud, only immersed in his thoughts of Eilya and Ygritte, torn between the person he felt guilty for longing for, and the other that he was guilty for wanting to forget.

* * *

Distant voices were shouting somewhere to his right, and Jon's eyes flickered open as he gathered his bearings, realising he must have fallen asleep at his desk. The fire had gone out and the room was dark. It was still night, but there were definitely voices coming from the courtyard, more now, shouting, faint orange light casting dim shadows, even in the tower office. Getting to his feet, Jon looked out of the window, and a growing number of his men were out on the training ground, surrounding the southern gate, which was open, some running in and out of the tunnel, beckoning wildly to others for help. Jon stared, his mind racing, wondering what the hell was going on, when the limping form of Ser Alliser Thorne appeared, carried by two stewards. Jon lept away from the window. The rangers weren't due back for at least another week, and Ser Alliser never abandoned a mission prematurely. Something was very wrong. Grabbing his cloak, he belted through the office door and down the tower steps.

Jon didn't stop running, even as he reached the courtyard, finally halting before Ser Alliser, who was slumped against a pile of wood by the southern gate, panting, along with two of the rangers who had accompanied the mission, who also looked in a bad state. One had lost an ear and had clearly been bleeding profoundly. The other had a broken nose and a spear wound to his right arm. Ser Alliser's leg was broken, but intact, and he had blood smeared across his face. Whether it was his own or someone else's was left unknown.

Jon looked between the three of them wildly. 'What happened?' he questioned.

Ser Alliser raised his head slowly to Jon before finally speaking. 'Your Wildlings attacked us,' he snarled, struggling to catch his breath. Jon felt his mouth fall open and Ser Alliser laughed dryly at him. 'You thought you could tame them. They've taken you for a fucking fool, lad.'

The insult bypassed Jon completely. 'How… What did they-'

'They came out of nowhere,' said the ranger with the spear wound, as the other was given a cloth to hold to the hole where his ear had once been. He looked very pale, and Jon was unsure whether he should be standing. 'There was about fifty of them, My Lord, they attacked us on The Fist. Men and women, there was no mercy. We were completely outnumbered.'

Jon's blood suddenly ran cold and he froze on the spot. Ser Alliser appeared to read his mind.

'We're the only ones to return, _Lord Snow_. The rest are gone, murdered by your beloved Wildling scum. We've lost some of the best men the Watch had.'

Men were still shouting as others disappeared into the tunnel with weapons to scour the nearest perimeter of any sign of further invasion. Jon watched on hopelessly, unable to believe that he could have been betrayed so badly. It just wasn't possible. Tormund had wanted to work with Jon, for the good of all of them, how could this have happened?

'Jon?' Sam's voice appeared, and Jon spun round to face him, Gilly and Eilya, who flashed him an uncertain look. His mouth went dry as he became suddenly aware of her presence. The pit of his stomach disappeared. She didn't know yet. It was unbearable to stand just inches from her knowing what she didn't.

'Jon, what's happened?' Sam asked, giving Ser Alliser a frightened glance as he and the two rangers were guided into the barracks by more stewards.

'The Wildlings…' But Jon couldn't finish, he could only look back at Sam as his eyes widened in horror.

'Where's Dann?'

Eilya's voice was calm, but it sounded false. Jon shut his eyes, full of dread. He felt like he was going to be sick.

'Where's Dann?' Eilya repeated, slower this time, and Jon could feel her eyes on him before he opened his own. As he did, she was gauging him with a hollow stare, unblinking, searching his very soul, clawing at it for the answer that he knew would shatter her heart if he admitted to. 'Where's Dannard?' she demanded, her voice breaking as she stepped forward. Sam reached for her arm, but he missed her, and she stood in front of Jon, the corner of her beautiful sad blue eyes crinkling as the realisation slowly washed over her. Jon's voice caught in his throat. He couldn't speak, he couldn't tell her. He slowly shook his head, and his own heart broke and her mouth fell open in silent internal agony.

Eilya lunged forward, in the direction of the southern gate, which the men were beginning to close, wailing her brother's name. Jon grabbed her, pulling her to him as he fought with his own distraught. She struggled for a few moments, screaming hysterically as she tried to break free from his grasp, until her body went limp, and she sagged against him, gripping the wolf-fur of his black cloak as she cried uncontrollably into his chest, and Jon just held her, his heart heavy as he watched his men shut the southern entrance completely, breaking contact once again with the world beyond the Wall.

* * *

Jon sat in the library, watching the fire dance and burn, holding a glass of red wine. He was never really one to drink, but right now he needed it, even if it was to just hold the glass, so that he had something to focus on, so that he wouldn't fall apart in the chair he was sat on. The door opened and closed, and Sam sat beside him in an old, battered armchair.

The sun would be rising soon. They were to burn an effigy in a ranger uniform later that morning, as a mark of respect for the men that had lost their lives on the most recent mission. Jon was mentally and physically drained, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. There was too much to organise, too much to plan, now that they no longer had the Wildlings on their side, Jon was apparently back to square one.

'How are the rangers? And Ser Alliser?' Jon asked, his voice husky.

'Alive,' Sam replied, placing an extra log on the fire. 'One's lost a lot of blood, he'll be bed-bound for a few days. Ser Alliser didn't want me to look at him.' Sam grimaced. 'So he'll be using a walking stick of his own making for a while.'

Jon nodded slowly, wondering if he wanted to know the answer to his next question. 'How is she?' he asked eventually, eyes still glued to the fire.

'Not great,' Sam admitted, sighing. 'She's staying with Gilly tonight, so she's not on her own. I've given her some valerian extract to help her sleep, she needs to rest.'

Jon closed his eyes slowly, the image of Eilya's devastation still vividly etched into the forefront of his mind. 'She'll never forgive me, Sam,' he said, opening his eyes once again.

Sam looked sideways at Jon, and sat for a while without saying anything, contemplating. Jon was too exhausted to ask what he was thinking, and so just waited for his friend to talk.

'You shouldn't feel so guilty, Jon.'

Jon scoffed. 'How can I not? He was her brother. I sent him on the mission. He's dead because of me. They're all dead, because of me.'

'That wasn't your fault, you weren't to know,' Sam continued slowly. 'But I'm not talking about the mission.' Jon turned his head and gave a Sam a questioning look. 'I'm talking about the Wildling lass. That wasn't your fault either, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. And Eily. You shouldn't feel so guilty for having feelings for her.'

Jon sat upright in his chair, startled by Sam's words. How could he know, about either Ygritte or Eilya? Jon had only ever mentioned Ygritte a couple of times, and many moons had passed since then. And Eilya wouldn't have _told_ him about their kiss, would she? She wouldn't have had the time to have told him yet, surely, if she was even going to.

'If the Wildling truly loved you, she would want you to be happy, I reckon,' said Sam, as though reading Jon's mind. 'Eily can give you that, and you can give it back. It's quite obvious, anyway, the way you are around her, and what she's said about you.' Sam raised an eyebrow. 'Plus you haven't denied it yet…'

Jon sighed and slowly nodded his head in admittance, slumping back into the chair and taking a large swig of bitter tasting wine. 'I must be the Watch's worst Lord Commander, Sam. Without honour, without a plan, I send my men on suicide missions. I've broken my vows once already, and now she's here, she's all I think about.'

Sam chuckled. 'You know that I think the vows are a load of bollocks. They were probably made by some old duffer who no girl wanted. At least we don't have that problem anymore.'

Jon smiled in amusement, before it hit him. 'So, you and Gilly…? You've actually…?'

'Perhaps,' said Sam, a small smile flashing across his face as he looked on into the fire.

'Get away,' Jon laughed. 'When?'

Sam shrugged. 'Not long after Maester Aemon passed.'

Jon laughed again. 'You know Sam, the Citadel won't want you and Gilly together any more than the Watch does. They'll try and persuade you with vows and promises, too.'

'They can try,' Sam replied simply.

There was silence between the two of them again, and Jon's mind was once again filled with thoughts of Eilya.

'I reckon you should give things a chance with Eily,' Sam said after a while. He sounded tired, and it occurred to Jon that he was probably still awake for his sake. He felt suddenly grateful towards his best friend. 'You both need the support, now more than ever. You'd be good for one another.'

Jon sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. 'I'm the Lord Commander, Sam. It's not as simple as that. If anyone found out… I don't want to put her in any danger. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to Eilya, she means too much.'

Sam rose from the armchair and stretched as he stood. He looked down at Jon and smiled. 'That's exactly why she needs you.'

And with that final comment, Sam left the library, leaving Jon with his wine and his thoughts of the girl who he had unexpectedly and undeniably fallen head over heels for, whether he had intended to or not.


	14. Chapter 14 - The Truth Teller

**Author's Note:**

 **I had a look at this yesterday to see when I last updated, as I knew it had been a while – didn't realise it had been nearly a month, though! So sorry guys, work has been a bit crazy over the last few weeks, but I promise there will be more updates coming from now on :)**

 **As a little reminder, Dannard had gone off on a rangers' mission, Jon and Eily (finally) kissed, both admitted their feelings (just not to each other!), and Ser Alliser returned after a Wildling attack,** ** _without_** **Dann *sad face*.**

 **Hope you enjoy the next instalment!**

* * *

 **Chapter 14 – The Truth Teller**

 **Eilya**

The morning came. Gilly left the sleeping quarters, taking little Sam with her, to start on her duties. Eilya sensed her friend pause as she opened the door, and she stood for a moment or two, before the closing it quietly behind her.

Eilya didn't stir, but she wasn't sleeping. She had barely slept at all, stealing only a few short naps, where she dreamt of Dannard alone in the snow, calling out her name, trying to run from a nearing army of bitter, twisted Wildling folk. She woke up before the dream went any further, but it didn't stop another wave of tears and sadness engulfing her as her heart broke that little bit more.

Eilya sat up and kicked away the pile of blankets she had been wrapped in. Pushing a curl out of her eyes, she let out a slow, shaky breath. She stood slowly and pulled her sheepskin fleece tightly around her body, before starting for the door. Stepping out into the hall, she began to walk. She didn't really know where she was going, but she didn't want to stay hidden away in Gilly's and Sam's sleeping quarters all day. She needed to clear her mind, and she had always found that walking helped – even if she was confined to the walls of Castle Black.

The dining hall was empty, Eilya noted, as she reached the ground floor. She wandered slowly inside, running her fingers along a cold, wooden table as she headed for a window on the far side of the room. There were voices in the courtyard, and Eilya could see the figures of hundreds of men stood, heads bowed, before an effigy wearing a ranger's uniform. Ser Alliser was talking, Eilya couldn't work out exactly what he was saying from behind the thick glass, but he held a burning torch, which he finally lit the effigy with, to which every man replied with 'And now their watch has ended.'

A lump formed in Eilya's throat and she let out a small sob as a single tear ran down her pale cheek. In the space of a few weeks, she had lost everything she had ever known. Her father, her home, and now her beloved brother… she was alone. Jon had been completely right, she had lost everything, and the winter was barely upon them yet.

Eilya's eyes flicked to the other side of the effigy, where Jon stood, Sam beside him, their eyes fixed on the flames. Jon looked white, his face completely drained of all emotion. His posture was limp, lacking all the power and authority he had conveyed before.

For a moment, Eilya tried to hate him, with all her heart, she tried to blame him for Dannard's death, for trusting the Wildlings and for sending his men on a death mission when he himself stayed within the safety of the Castle Walls.

But she couldn't. Jon wasn't a coward, or an idiot. His actions hadn't been spiteful or stupid, he had only done what he had thought was best for his men and for the civilisation beyond the Wall. It wasn't his fault that two peasants had ventured to the Wall, that one of them had proved himself enough to be made into a ranger. After everything Jon had done for herself and her brother, Eilya couldn't bring herself to hate him now.

The flames engulfed the effigy as the dark smoke rose into the freezing morning air. The worst was yet to come, that was a fact. But at least Dannard wouldn't have to die at the hands of the undead. Eilya placed a hand on the cold glass and she stared into the sky, her brother's smiling face etched into her mind, and she sobbed once again as another tear chased the last, her heart aching as she forced herself to accept the terrible fact that she would never see that smiling face again.

 _And now his watch is ended_.

* * *

 **Jon**

 _Lord Commander Snow,_

 _It is with my sincerest gratitude that I agree to meet with you in order to discuss your obligations to myself and the army of the One True King. We shall be headed to Castle Black in due course._

 _S_

Jon scowled, throwing the piece of parchment onto his desk as he sat back in his chair. It was in Stannis' nature to be arrogant, but it was something that Jon didn't need today. Standing, he looked out of his window. Smoke still hung faintly in the air above the training ground from the effigy burnt earlier that morning. The remains had since been cleared and soldiers had commenced training once again, but there didn't seem to be much go in any of them. Jon frowned as some fought half-heartedly, others stood in small groups talking. Each and every one of them looked either miserable or scared. Jon didn't blame them. That was exactly how he was feeling too.

Returning to his desk, he sighed angrily. How could the Wildlings have turned against them so badly? What had happened to Tormund? Jon still refused to believe that he could have betrayed him, so had he been overruled? Killed? Did he know of the attack? Jon hated that he would now never know the answers to any of those questions.

There was a knock at the oak door and Sam entered the office. He was holding a tray bearing bread and cheese. Jon felt sick at the sight of it.

'What is it, Sam?' he asked wearily.

'You have to eat, Jon. Or you'll get ill. The last thing the Watch needs is the Lord Commander popping his clogs.' Jon rolled his eyes, but finally obliged, taking a bite of the bread. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, and realised he was hungrier than he had thought. 'Also, Ser Alliser wanted me to pass on a message. About the attack.' Jon paused, looking to Sam to continue. Sam coughed awkwardly. 'Well, he said that, because some of the men have died, that you should probably send out a search to… you know, burn the bodies.'

Jon felt sick again, and put the bread down. He knew this was coming, he just didn't want to have to deal with it yet. The thought of Dannard and the other men were still deeply set in his brain, as was the futile hope that they weren't dead, that they might still return.

That thought was ridiculous. And if Jon should take anything from the last day, it was that hope was no longer an option, despite what he had told his men only the morning before. Jon looked to Sam once more, nodding slowly.

'Tell him to send three rangers out to The Fist, and another three to follow behind, as look-outs. They have four days, if none return, then we will send out others to search for them.'

'Can you not tell him? I really don't think Thorne would take it from m-'

'Tell him I've ordered you, Sam. If it's what he wants to hear, he won't care who it comes from,' Jon demanded wearily, rubbing his eyes. Sam shot him an uneasy look, but obliged, turning towards the door before Jon stopped him. 'Sam, have you seen… Is she okay?'

Sam smiled sadly. 'Eilya's been sat in the library with me all morning, she hasn't said much, I think she just wants some company. And she asked me to ask you if it was alright that she didn't do her chores today. Although she will if you want her to.'

Jon smiled in mild amusement. 'I don't expect her to ever do chores again, after everything I'm responsible for.' He paused. 'Look out for her, Sam. Make sure she doesn't leave or do anything… stupid. I couldn't live with myself if something happens to her, too.'

Sam frowned. 'She doesn't blame you, Jon. You should really talk to her-'

Jon stood, ignoring Sam's suggestion. 'Pass the message onto Ser Alliser – he's right, we should send a search party out sooner rather than later.' Sam hovered on the other side of the desk, obviously wondering whether to leave or stay and continue his attempt of persuading Jon to talk, but Jon dismissed him again. 'Now, Sam.'

Jon picked up a piece of parchment and pretended to start reading it, to signal that they were done. To his relief, Sam gave up and left the room. Frowning, Jon stared blankly at Stannis' writing, his eyes fixated on the word 'obligations'. Deep down, he knew Sam was right. But how could he possibly talk to Eilya? What could he say that would make the situation better? It wasn't as if their last encounter had ended on particularly good terms anyway, when he had practically driven her from his office with his sudden coldness after kissing her, and now that her brother was dead, and all he had done was hold her while she sobbed into his chest… He hadn't even had the courage to tell her straight that Dannard was gone. Even as Lord Commander, he couldn't do anything to rectify that.

In mid-thought, there was suddenly another knock at the oak door, which began to open slowly with a creak. Jon sighed. 'Sam, I thought I'd made it quite clear that I-' But it wasn't Sam. Ed's head appeared around the door, staring at Jon nervously.

'Are you alone?' he asked. He sounded urgent.

Jon nodded quickly. 'Ed, what-'

But Ed just shook his head. 'Make sure no one else comes in, not yet.'

And he disappeared. Jon opened his mouth, about to go after him, but someone else stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Jon stopped in his tracks, stunned by the familiar face before him.

'My Lord,' said Dannard Canann. 'Can I have a moment of your time?'

* * *

Jon sat in his chair as Dannard sat across the desk from him, devouring the bread and cheese that Sam had brought from the kitchens. Jon didn't mind in the slightest, and he couldn't help but stare at the young man as he ate. Dannard was alive. But Ser Alliser had told him… had he not realised? Had Dannard escaped? How had he survived? He couldn't wait any longer for the answers.

'What happened? You were attacked, we all thought you were…' Dannard swallowed the last of his meal and pushed the tray away. Looking at Jon, his blue eyes glinted. They were like Eilya's, which suddenly made Jon feel a little uneasy.

'It's a bit of a story, My Lord-'

'Jon.' Jon waved his hand at the formality.

'Oh… Jon.' Dannard looked slightly taken aback. 'Well, it's a bit of a story.' Jon nodded urgently for him to continue. 'We arrived at The Fist on the sixth night. We knew we were being watched, Ser Alliser warned us early on that there were Wildlings about, and that we should be keeping our guard up, because…' Dannard paused.

'Because?' Jon prompted.

'Ser Alliser told us that you didn't know what you were doing, and that the Wildlings weren't to be trusted.' Jon tensed, gripping his chair handles tightly. 'But I told him he was being too cautious, that they were just watching out for us now they're on our side.'

Jon's heart sunk. 'And they attacked you that night.' His voice sounded hollow, even to him.

'Not exactly,' said Dannard. Jon stared at him, confused. 'Three Wildling women approached us just before nightfall. They told us that they were there on business and didn't want to fight. Ser Alliser and a couple of the others told them to leave, but they said that they needed us to deliver a message back to you.'

'And then what?'

'Things turned nasty.' Dannard grimaced, but continued. 'A couple of the rangers attacked the women and tried to… they tried to rape them.' Jon's blood ran cold. 'Ser Alliser told them that, if they didn't leave, he wouldn't be responsible for the men's actions.' Jon felt his anger levels rise suddenly. He had _trusted_ Thorne. 'The women were screaming and a few Wildling men came rushing over the hill. They had axes and clubs. They threatened us, a couple of us tried to reason with them, but the others started attacking them. I managed to convince the women to take cover, so they wouldn't be hurt, and they followed me to a clearing in the forest away from the fighting. They didn't trust me at first, but I couldn't leave them there on their own… We stayed there until morning. When we went back to The Fist, the Wildling men and three of the rangers were dead. Two of the others and Ser Alliser were gone. The women told me that they did have a message for you, from their leader.'

'Tormund,' said Jon slowly, and Dannard nodded.

'They even took me to him. The Wildlings have set up a temporary camp at the base of the closest mountain to the Wall. Some of the families have left, they don't agree with joining forces with the Night's Watch, but there was still a good few hundred left, that I saw.'

'What did Tormund say?' Jon pressed, leaning forward in his chair.

'He wants to arrange a meeting, at day break in three days' time. He said that the children aren't safe, that they should be given every opportunity to survive, even if others refuse to pass the Wall. If they stay in the free lands, they won't stand a chance. He wants the children to pass the Wall, so they can stay and live in the villages around Castle Black.' Jon sat back in his chair, taking in Tormund's request. Dannard fidgeted slightly. 'Jon, the Wildlings aren't bad people, are they.'

Jon smiled crookedly at Dannard. He felt a sudden warmth towards him. He was someone who was on his side. 'No, Dann, they're not.'

'Can we help them?'

'Yes, we can.'

* * *

The group of six rangers headed out into the free land soon after supper, armed with dragon glass weapons, clubs and tools for burning the corpses. Jon explained the whereabouts of the bodies and reinforced the time scale, encouraging them to return as fast as they possibly could.

However, Jon decided that it was best to avoid Alliser Thorne. His First Ranger has betrayed his orders, lied to him, and adandoned his mission. Jon should have him executed for his disloyalty… and yet, he couldn't convince himself that this was the best option. Ser Alliser was an excellent trainer, soldier and ranger. Without him, Jon really would be alone as Lord Commander, and he wasn't sure how many of his more advanced, senior men would react to the killing of the ex-Lord Commander. This was going to be something that Jon would have to address carefully, but tonight wasn't the night to do it. It could wait.

For now, Jon had a more pressing issue. After discussing the plan in-depth with Dannard, as well as swearing him to secrecy until Jon said otherwise, he knew that there was another person who would be just as relieved – if not more so – as he was to see Dannard alive. Guiding him through the castle halls, to the library on the ground floor, Jon pushed open the door to see Sam reading at the table, who looked up when Jon and Dannard entered. His eyes widened, but Jon quickly raised a finger to his lips as Dannard crossed the room to the fireplace, where Eilya's limp body sat wrapped in a thick blanket in the armchair, facing the dancing fire as she dozed soundlessly. Jon watched as Dannard kneeled down before her, waking her gently from her slumber, and she muttered something which turned into a sob as the siblings embraced.

Giving Sam a crooked smile, Jon left the library without a word, his mind at peace with itself, if only for tonight, at least.


	15. Chapter 15 – The Conversation

**Author's Note:**

 **So this story has had a few more faves / follows since the last instalment – thank you so much for the new and continued support!**

* * *

 **Chapter 15 – The Conversation**

 **Eilya**

A couple of days had passed since Dannard had returned to Castle Black, but Eilya had mentally thanked the Gods over and over again for bringing her brother back to her safe and sound. He had been excused from training for a few days while he recuperated, and the siblings had been practically inseparable since.

Two days had been and gone, and during the second night, long after the other men had finished supper and Gilly had finished her chores, Eilya and Dannard joined her and Sam in the library. Huddled together in blankets next to the fireplace in an attempt to keep out the cold, Eilya introduced her brother to her friends for, what she realised, was the first time since they had arrived at the castle. Gilly was as quiet as she always was around new people, and kept scuttling off to check on the baby, but Sam and Dannard seemed to get on well almost immediately, much to Eilya's relief, sharing common interests such as reading (although Sam's skills were far more extensive and well-practised than Dannard's) and exploring.

'I used to like digging around the swimming hole, when I was younger. I would find small bones and trinkets and things - I was convinced I'd found an ancient civilisation or something,' Sam reminisced, stirring a pot of warm milk which was hanging above the fire, before handing out goblets to the siblings. 'My father told me it was all nonsense… which I suppose it was, really.'

'I used to do things like that, too!' Dannard laughed, accepting the milk and taking a swig. 'I used to bring things home for Eily all the time, she thought my treasures were amazing… until she got a bit older, and she realised it was all crap.'

Eilya laughed softly, wrapping her cold fingers around her cup gratefully, taking small sips. The milk warmed her insides, almost as much as having her brother laughing and joking beside her again did.

The chatting continued for a little while longer, until there was a knock at the library door. Slowly, it opened, and Jon peered round at them all. Eilya felt her heart jump at the sight of him, and she quickly looked back into her cup.

'Hi,' Jon muttered, stepping into the room slowly. 'I… er…'

'We were just talking about the summer, trying to keep ourselves warm,' Sam joked, handing out a goblet to Jon as he smiled warmly. 'Please, join us.'

The oval the four of them were sat in was already at capacity around the fireplace, so Jon silently opted to sit at the table and, taking his drink from Sam, began to sit on the wooden chair, before Gilly quickly struggled to her feet.

'P… Please, sit here, My Lord,' she stammered. 'I need to go see to… to the…' She trailed off, not looking at Jon as she half nodded her head. Bidding Sam goodnight, she flashed Eilya a nervous smile, which she returned, before darting out of the room. Sam smiled wistfully after her.

Jon stood for a moment, appearing to hover awkwardly, before taking his place in the group. It was only as he began to sit that Eilya realised how closely Gilly had been sat next to her, and Jon's knee brushed her own a couple of times before he was in a relaxed position. Although, as Eilya sneaked a glance sideways at him, she noted that he didn't look particularly relaxed at all.

Dannard cleared his throat, snapping Eilya out of her thoughts. 'So, Jon, is everything set for the morning?' He seemed a little apprehensive at using the Lord Commander's name directly, but Jon didn't bat an eye.

'As set as it ever will be,' he replied, smiling crookedly as he looked past Eilya to her brother. Eilya stole another quick glance at him. He looked tired, as he usually did lately. His dark, unruly hair was slightly matted, and his shoulders appeared to sag. Eilya suddenly felt the urge to hug him, to comfort him, and she blushed as she quickly looked at the carpet and sipped her milk.

'And the children will be spread throughout the neighbouring villages?' Sam queried.

Jon nodded slowly, his tired eyes fixed on the fire. 'We'll try to keep them in their families as best as we can.' He hesitated, appearing to frown. 'Thorne didn't take it well, and I'm sure many of the others won't either. He's got a lot of them on his side since his little stunt.'

'I've told a lot of the others what really happened, that we weren't attacked. Some of the guys wouldn't hear it – but I think a few of them have been persuaded that the Wildlings aren't bad people,' Dannard interjected.

Jon smiled sadly at him. 'I'm afraid some people just don't want to hear the truth.'

The four of them went quiet, lost in their thoughts of the events of the next day. Except for Eilya. She felt for the Wildlings and the children, of course she did, but she was becoming increasingly aware of Jon's arm that was practically touching her own, and the warmth their touching legs was creating between them. Eilya wondered if he could feel it too, or if he was noticing it as much as she was. She hoped to the Gods that he wasn't sat close enough to hear her heart thudding against her chest.

Jon suddenly placed his goblet on the table behind him, and started to shuffle to his feet. 'I best be going.' He nodded towards Sam and Dannard, who bid him goodnight. Eilya could feel his eyes on her as he rose, but she refused to look at him and kept her focus on the floor again as he stood and left the room. Sam and Dannard started talking about a book they had both read as children, but Eilya was lost in her own thoughts again, and bit her lip anxiously. She probably should have said something to Jon, at least broken the awkward tension between them. They had kissed after all, he couldn't have forgotten about that, could he…

'Eily, you alright?' Dannard asked, making Eilya jump. 'You've gone very quiet.'

'Yes, I… I have to… I'll be right back.'

Ignoring her brother's questioning look, Eilya staggered to her feet quickly, her legs aching from sitting cross legged for so long. As she stood, she glanced at Sam, who had an eyebrow raised knowingly. Swallowing, she ignored him too, and rushed out of the library door.

Jon was at the other end of the corridor, about to turn a corner when Eilya shouted for him.

'Jon!' He spun round as Eilya ran in his direction, stopping short of him. She hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. She knotted her hands as Jon looked down at her quizzically. 'I… er… I just wanted to say… thank you.'

Jon blinked. 'Thank you? For what?'

Shit. She hadn't thought about that. 'Er…' Her mind raced. 'Thank you… for… for Dannard, returning safely. I never said it. So thank you.'

'Oh.' Jon nodded slowly, still looking confused. 'Well, I didn't really do anything, he just… came back, really.'

Eilya smiled widely at him, trying to hide her foolishness. 'Well, thanks anyway.'

The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment, Eilya desperately trying to think of something else to say as Jon put his hands in his pockets and removed them again, looking at anything but Eilya, which she could appreciate was rather difficult in such a deserted corridor. Coming up with absolutely nothing, and cursing herself mentally for making the situation between them even more uneasy, she began to shift away. 'Well, I'd better be getting back-'

'I've been meaning to talk to you,' Jon interrupted, stopping Eilya in her tracks as she looked up at him, shocked at his sudden interjection. 'About… the other night.'

Eilya's stomach somersaulted and her mouth suddenly went very dry. Fuck. This was it. This was the conversation. She didn't know whether she was ready, she hadn't exactly prepared herself for it. She glanced behind herself to make sure they were definitely alone. 'Oh?'

Jon cleared his throat, looking nervous as he ran a hand through his thick hair. 'I'm sorry for… you know.' Although the only light was coming from a dim torch on the wall a few feet away, Eilya was sure she could see that Jon was blushing. She bit back a smile at his awkwardness as he continued. 'I didn't mean to just… you know. It was unprofessional of me, I didn't mean to put you in that… situation.'

There was a pause as Eilya nodded slowly, still trying not to smile. Jon continued to look on at her nervously. It was sweet that he was apologising for something that she didn't actually blame him for, especially as he could have just ignored it altogether. He was the Lord Commander after all, he didn't have to answer to anybody; and yet here he was, stood in front of her, trying to explain himself. To her. Eilya felt kind of thrilled at that thought. And his embarrassment was endearing to her. It all gave her a rare boost of confidence while being in his company. She held her hands behind her back as she gazed up at him sweetly. 'So, what are you saying? Do you regret that it happened?'

Jon's eyes widened and Eilya could see his Adam's apple dip as he swallowed. 'I… I…' he stuttered. Eilya laughed softly, to show him that she was joking. Jon blinked at her, before his face broke into its own smile. It was still breath-taking, even after all the times she had seen it, and she had to force her focus away from it.

'I'm kidding, I know it wasn't exactly _ideal_ ,' she said, smiling apologetically. 'So, I'm sorry too.'

Jon shrugged lightly. 'Maybe… but I wouldn't say that I regretted it.' Eilya's eyes widened as she gazed into his dark ones. Did he just say…? So he didn't regret it? She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. 'I would even go as far as saying… I wish it hadn't had to stop.'

Jon's dark eyes were burning into her own now, ceasing her ability to formulate a sentence. Eilya's could feel her heart in her throat, excited butterflies rising in her chest. 'So do I,' she heard herself say finally, breathlessly.

Neither blinked as they continued to stare at each other. The cold and the whistling wind outside seemed to disappear as they stood, encapsulated in their little bubble, together in the corridor. Jon took a small step towards her, his eyes still on hers. Her nerves and anticipation, mixed with exhilaration suddenly made Eilya feel a little light headed, particularly as Jon reached timidly for her hand. It was unexpectedly warm and Eilya instinctively wrapped her fingers around his.

'Eilya, I…'

He didn't need to say anymore. Just by looking into his eyes and holding his hand, Eilya knew what Jon wanted to tell her. He wanted her, but it was more than just physical. He'd been fighting with himself for a long time. He'd tried to keep away, to keep himself from her, he'd tried to forget about their moment of passion and keep his vows and his duties as his priority… but he couldn't. She was always on his mind, she was everything he wanted, even though he knew she shouldn't be. He wanted her in his arms again, he wanted to kiss her again. And she desperately wanted to kiss him.

They began to move towards each other, in sync, about to touch, when there were suddenly voices in the corridor – the voices of Sam and Dannard leaving the library. Jon and Eilya immediately sprang apart.

'Eily?'

'Dann!' Eilya spun round, smiling brightly at her brother. 'I was… just talking to… Jon.'

Dannard and Sam stopped beside the pair. 'We can see that,' said Sam, in a tell-tale tone. Dannard looked between the two of them curiously. There was something else in his expression… Eilya gulped as she realised it was suspicion.

'Eilya was just asking me about the children,' Jon said purposefully, shooting Sam a stern look. 'And the Wildlings.'

'Yes, I wanted to know if I could help at all,' Eilya piped up. Sam chuckled, but didn't say anything to sound them out.

'Oh. Well, you've always been the kind type.' Dannard smiled at his sister, appearing to believe the story, much to Eilya's relief. 'Anyway, I should get some sleep. And so should you. I'll walk you to your room, if you like.'

Eilya nodded gratefully and Dannard said goodnight to the others. As her brother turned away to head back down the corridor, Eilya caught sight of Jon nudging Sam, who was grinning at him, before he met her stare. Their gaze lingered for a moment, the tension between them obvious, until Eilya broke the silence.

'Goodnight, Jon,' she said, finally turning and following her brother.

'Goodnight, Eilya,' she heard Jon say, his deep voice thick with longing, warming the very pit of her stomach and causing her to grin widely as she left him to be interrogated by Sam.


	16. UPDATE

**Author's Note:**

 **So, I know we're not supposed to use up chapters with spiels** ** _about_** **our stories, but... whatever, I'm doing it anyway because this is an update.**

 **I'll be the first to hold my hands up and admit to just how terrible I am at updating this story lately – it's been a pretty busy summer, plus I've started Uni now (yay!). However, it's given me a chance to think about where this fanfic is going and I have a few more ideas for it, so thank you to everyone who is still reading, and I will definitely be updating more now things have settled down, with the next chapter coming tomorrow!**

 *****To summarise the last few events: The Wildlings have moved closer to The Wall for protection, but still refuse to pass the border. Alliser Thorne returned from the rangers' mission injured, spinning a story of how the Wildlings had attacked the small group and killed most of the men, although Dannard came back shortly after and revealed that Ser Alliser is in fact lying – it was the rangers who attacked the Wildlings. Tormund has requested that the Watch take their children so they are better protected from the White Walkers. Jon has agreed to these conditions, but men are starting to question his leadership. On the upside, Jon and Eilya are finally coming to terms with their feelings for one another, and their relationship is starting to develop…**

 **Chapter 16 coming tomorrow, guys! Apologies again for the lack of updates, all feedback and views are still very very much appreciated. Thank you all!**

 **Clw-x**


	17. Chapter 16 - The Children

**Author's Note:**

 **Long chapter, to make up for the lack of updates! Also note that this story is officially rated 'M' now, as you will find out... Don't like, don't read!**

 **For the rest, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 16 – The Children**

 **Jon**

Silence echoed throughout the courtyard and the training grounds, a light snow swilling and settling at the feet of just over three hundred men, all stood in their black cloaks, not one saying a word to another. Jon stood before the gate to the southern entrance, waiting for the first glimpse of sunrise, his fists clenched against his anxiety and the bitter cold. A chill snaked its way through the army, but no one dared move, breath caught in every throat as they watched, and they waited.

Slowly, but almost too quickly, the grey sky began to lighten, and two long bursts of a horn sounded from somewhere on top of the Wall, tearing through the silence and the tension. There was a rustle of sound as men looked to one another with expressions of either apprehension or antipathy, but no one moved any further.

Jon let out a long breath, which evaporated in the air before his eyes. He sensed Alliser Thorne bristling beside him, before he leaned towards Jon, so that only he could hear his words of encouragement. 'Any other brilliant plans, _Lord Commander_ ,' he sneered. 'Before you kill us all?'

Jon clenched his fists more, positive his palms would now be bleeding if not for his thick leather gloves. He turned his head slightly, to look directly at Ser Alliser, but without making a scene. 'I don't believe it's the Wildlings I should be worried about,' he retorted in a low voice. Ser Alliser bared his teeth, but said no more, leaving Jon to stride forward to the entrance and, signalling to the men on either side, it began to open.

With the entrance opened fully, he heard a soldier shout, and a loud creak echoed throughout the tunnel as the gate was opened at the other end. Standing alone, Ser Alliser's eyes burning into the back of his head, along with three hundred more, Jon swallowed back his nerves, never taking his eyes off the entrance, waiting for the first of the Wildlings to enter the castle grounds with their children. Nodding silently to a number of the soldiers on either side of the grounds, some started to enter the tunnel, while others formed a large ring around Jon and the entrance, in order to take the children quickly and efficiently, but also so that no Wildling adult would be able to come too far into the castle grounds – as demanded by Ser Alliser, and as adhered to by Jon, who felt that he had no choice in that matter. Despite his willingness to help the Wildlings in whatever way he could, he was still Lord Commander to The Watch and had a duty to protect his men, too. Although, as the days passed, and despite Sam's and Dannard's protests, he couldn't help but feel that less and less of the men still saw him as their Lord Commander. And he only had Alliser Thorne to thank or that. For now, however, he could only pray to the Gods that today went smoothly, for the children's sakes, if no one else's.

Finally, the figures of a woman and her two young daughters came into sight at the entrance, led by a couple of gruff looking males and Tormund. The party of five looked apprehensively at the men that surrounded them, but never once faltered. Jon stepped forward, catching Tormund's eye. He nodded at Jon slightly.

'You got my message,' he said.

'Yes,' Jon replied. He hesitated before continuing. 'I'm deeply sorry for what happened at The Fist, I can assure you that was not anticipated, it was never my-'

'I know.' Tormund dismissed Jon's apology, glancing at Ser Alliser with an angry yet weary look. He leaned in closer. 'Do I have your word that these children are safe? The others have put up with so much already… no mother would ever give up their child unless they knew it was to keep them safe. Do I have your word, Snow?'

Jon swallowed, Tormund's grey eyes boring into his own without blinking. Could he be sure that the children would be safer on his side of the Wall? How would he ever know that the villagers would treat them like their own, keep them from any harm? Had he, the Lord Commander, put too much faith into people he barely knew, people who were turning against him at every turn?

He didn't have choice, he realised. 'You have my word.'

Tormund nodded again and beckoned to the woman and the girls. Two soldiers stepped out of their circle and stood next to Jon, ready to take the children. The mother, clearly quite emotional, knelt down to her children.

'I have to go away for a while,' she said slowly, trying to smile at the girls. 'You are going to stay here, with these nice men.' Her smile faltered slightly as she looked to Tormund for reassurance that what she was doing was the right thing.

'Will we see you again, Mammy?' the eldest asked. She was holding her sister's hand tightly, and Jon suddenly felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

The mother stifled a sob. 'Of course, Bea, of course darling.' She threw her arms around her daughters, hugging them one last time, before standing. She watched, tears streaming down her face as the girls were taken by the two men. They were to stay inside of the eating quarters, in the warmth, until all of the children had been safely escorted into the grounds, before they would all be distributed between families in the villages. Jon hoped against anything that the children would make it to the villages without harm coming to them. He knew that they would at least be safe there.

'You take care of them,' the woman half warned, half pleaded, before being escorted back towards the southern entrance by the two men.

Jon breathed, trying to muster all the strength he had in him. This was going to be a very long, very traumatic process for all of those involved.

* * *

 **Eilya**

On Jon's orders, she and Gilly were to stay in the dining quarters to look after the increasing amount of children throughout the day. Dannard had explained that it was so that they could prepare the food and comfort the little ones, but Eilya secretly wondered if it was so that no harm would come to them if things got out of hand between the men in the courtyard.

As the morning passed, more and more of the children entered the grounds, all cold, tired and upset. She had been up long before any of the men, preparing soup, bread and cheese to feed the hungry mouths, and however exhausted she had felt by sunrise, it was all worth it to see the children devour their meals as they sat at the giant wooden tables, as though they hadn't eaten properly in months. It occurred to Eilya shortly after that they probably hadn't.

As the flow of children started to settle, she and Gilly took a breather in the kitchens, proud of their hard work.

'I think we've done well,' Eilya said happily, rubbing her tired feet with a gloved hand.

'Me too,' Gilly agreed, quickly checking the basket at the side of a counter to make sure baby Sam was comfortable. 'I think the Lord Commander's done a really good thing.'

Eilya nodded, smiling, despite of herself, proud of how Jon had handled this difficult situation so majestically. Someone who could have turned a blind eye to the needs of the Wildlings when there were more pressing issues at hand, and yet he had made this his top priority, saving the lives of well over a hundred young people, regardless of where they came from. He was a hero, really.

'Would you ever consider having children?' Gilly asked out of the blue, startling Eilya out of her thoughts.

'I, er… I suppose so, I've never really thought about it,' she replied. Gilly smiled to herself, picking up her son's basket and rocking him gently. 'Why'd you ask?'

'No reason,' Gilly cooed, stroking Sam's little cheek. 'I just think you'd make a good Mam. And Jon would make a good Pa.' She flashed Eilya a grin, and she could feel herself blushing instantly.

'Gilly!' she hissed, making sure there was no one stood at the kitchen door who could have overheard. 'Even if – and it wouldn't, but even if that _was_ ever on the cards – which it never would be–'

Gilly laughed quietly, setting the basket back down. 'I know, I know. But I think you two would be sweet together.' She took a ladle and stirred the pot of soup on the stove a few times, before picking it up and turning back to Eilya. 'Just think about it, Eily. You're both stuck in this castle, no one has to know. And it's so obvious Jon likes you, he gets all flustered when you're around.' Eilya felt her blush deepen. 'All I'm saying is, give things a go, have some fun. The Gods only know the poor guy could do with some attention.'

Gilly winked, before she headed out of the kitchen and into the dining quarters with the fresh soup. Eilya stood, staring at the door, a mix of embarrassment and excitement still etched onto her face. She had never heard Gilly talk like that before, and she had never heard truer words come out of her mouth.

More of the day passed, and Eilya and Gilly were eventually being pushed from the kitchens so that the stewards could make a start on an early supper. Gilly opted to go to the library to keep baby Sam out of the way of the children being escorted to the surrounding villages by the groups of soldiers. Eilya decided to head out onto the courtyard to see if there was anything else she could do to help. Clearing away the last of the pots and pans the children had been eating from, she headed across the corridor to the pantry to store the remaining soup in ceramic pots. Alone, she made quick work of transferring the soup from the steel cooking pot, so that she could make haste and find Dannard (and Jon) before they disappeared for the evening. Almost done, Eilya was cleaning up a few spillages, when she suddenly heard muffled voices on the other side of the almost closed door. They were out in the hall, and they were hushed.

'…fucking ridiculous amount of food – _our food_ , completely _fucking_ wasted…'

She instantly recognised that voice as Ser Alliser's, and Eilya stopped everything she was doing immediately and extinguished the light on the wall. Not that she had intended to overhear his conversation, but the last thing she wanted was to be accused of doing so by Alliser Thorne.

'My Lord, we are surely the laughing stock of the other castles?'

Ser Alliser snarled and said something that Eilya couldn't quite hear. She covered her mouth with her hand, to silence her breathing, partly so that she could hear more.

'Not for long, my lad, not for long. I'm telling you there will be changes around here, you mark my fucking words, son! There will be…'

The hushed voices died out as the men walked through the corridor and away from the pantry. Eilya waited for a moment to make sure they were out of sight, before she left the pantry as quickly as possible to find her friends.

It had been snowing again throughout the day, and after being stuck inside for as long as she had, Eilya squinted against the bright ground. There was no sign of her brother anywhere, but she caught sight of Sam and Jon talking on the other side of the courtyard as the men cleared away benches and blocks of wood around them, and she headed over to them promptly.

'Hi,' she smiled as she reached them. Both of their faces were pink and they looked cold, tired and wet. 'How did it go?'

To her surprise, Jon smiled widely. His gorgeous, dreamlike smile that made Eilya's heart somersault in her chest. 'Brilliantly,' he replied. 'Nothing went wrong, no one stepped out of line or did anything they shouldn't. Everything went brilliantly.'

Eilya smiled back at him, his enthusiasm contagious. It was so rare to see him happy, let alone grinning like an idiot. She thought back to the conversation she had overheard outside of the pantry just a short while before, but decided against telling Jon. The last thing she wanted was something so trivial ruining his uncharacteristically good mood.

* * *

 **Jon**

The evening was starting to set in, the grey sky turning darker every moment that Jon walked around the courtyard, making sure that everything was in its place and that no child had been left behind, hiding under the barracks or behind walls. The day had been a success, he thought, smiling to himself as it occurred to him that he was quite shocked, but so pleased at this revelation. Jon approached the gate to the southern entrance.

'You can seal it now,' he instructed.

'My Lord, there is still a ranger on the other side who has not yet returned.'

Jon pulled a face, trying to think of who could still be out there. Ser Alliser was inside, he had seen him go in long before all of the children had been escorted into the castle. Wandering through the tunnel, there were a number of items that children must have dropped and lost as they were being removed from the world beyond the Wall. Hats, woollen scarves, bears, dolls with missing eyes… Jon thought for a moment about picking up every single item and returning them, one by one to their owners who were now settling into the villages. But Ser Alliser would never stand for that, and he couldn't have more of his men questioning his demands. Frowning, Jon continued past the objects, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt inside of him.

Coming out on the other side, Jon looked around, squinting in the almost complete darkness. Just a little way from the entrance, Jon saw the ranger in question. He had his back to Jon, but was holding a large flaming torch, his chestnut hair practically glowing in its light.

'Dannard,' Jon sighed. He started, heading towards him, but slowed as he realised he was talking to someone. It was a Wildling girl – the one with dark platted hair who had initially visited with Tormund after the White Walkers attacked Hardhome. She was smiling at Dannard, they were laughing. Jon slowed, suddenly very aware that he was walking into something.

Dannard sensed his presence and turned. The girl's smile faltered and Dannard's eyes widened. 'Jon,' he said quickly. 'I was just making sure we had every last child safely inside the castle.'

Jon nodded slowly, taking in the all-too familiar scene, until another joined the group. Tormund.

'Maris, you should head back,' he instructed. 'We are done here now.'

The girl nodded. She began to leave, but turned, first glancing at Jon, before taking Dannard's hand. 'Please make sure Torid is safe.' Dannard nodded sincerely, and she finally left, Dannard's eyes following her until she was engulfed by the night.

Dannard gave Jon a sad smile, one which Jon didn't return. His good mood had vanished. He felt suddenly annoyed with his ranger, although he wasn't entirely sure why.

'Go back inside, now. I'll follow shortly.'

Dannard gave Jon a fleeting look of apprehension, but obeyed, leaving Jon and Tormund together.

'How are your people?' Jon asked finally, as the two stared out into the black.

'They will be fine,' Tormund replied. He turned to Jon. 'You've done a good thing, Snow, for innocent people. We will not forget this. Stories will be told for generations to come.'

Jon smiled, but somehow this didn't seem enough. Tormund appeared to sense this.

'She would forgive you, after today.' He lowered his hood, the snow finally beginning to halt. 'She was always a stubborn lass, but she would forgive you now.'

Jon blinked quickly, unable to swallow back the lump in his throat.

'How do you know?' was all he could manage.

Tormund looked into the sky, as the last flake of snow fell at his feet, for that night, at least. Jon turned to the sky as well, and he instantly felt the guilt leave him, as though someone was looking back and finally relieving him of all the built up sorrow.

'She was a Wildling, Snow. But even she could forgive a deed as honourable as yours.'

* * *

 **Eilya**

Supper ended earlier than usual that night, and most of the men were either in the recreation rooms relaxing, or had opted for an early night after the long, tiring day. Gilly was falling asleep at the table she was cleaning in the dining hall, and Eilya's arms ached so much that she began to think they might just fall off.

Sam entered the eating quarters, looking as exhausted as they both felt. Gilly lifted her weary head off of her arms and smiled tiredly up at him.

'Busy day,' was all she said, as Sam helped her up.

'Do you need some help?' he asked Eilya as she walked up to them with a mop in hand, stifling a yawn.

'No, no, we're about done here anyway, I can finish up. You'd better take Gilly to bed before she passes out.' The two chuckled lightly at Gilly's limp body as she snoozed upright against Sam's large chest. He nodded gratefully and started to steer Gilly towards the door, when he appeared to remember something.

'By the way Eily, Jon's in the library, he said he was looking for you.' He shot her a grin and a wink.

Eilya felt herself blushing, something she was doing more and more of recently, and she mentally cursed herself for it. 'Oh, thanks Sam, I'll, er, I'll go find him.'

Sam left, and Eilya quickly finished mopping the floor around the entrance to the kitchen, butterflies in her stomach. She felt more alert now than she had earlier. As she extinguished the last of the torches in the dining hall, she quickly headed down the corridor, towards the library. She felt both nervous and excited, anxious and giddy. _He said he was looking for you_. What did Jon want? What did _she_ want?

As she reached the library door, Gilly's words from earlier that day echoed through her mind. _Give things a go, have some fun. The Gods only know the poor guy could do with some attention_. Eilya bit her lip, grinning to herself, not quite believing that she was even considering what was running through her mind. Turning the door knob carefully, she finally made her decision. Jon was a good guy, a good guy that needed to be reminded of just how good he really was.

* * *

 **Jon**

He had been sat in front of the library fire now for, what felt like, ages, waiting. Sam had left a good while ago… Maybe he hadn't found Eilya. Maybe she'd already gone to bed. What Jon wanted to say to her _could_ wait… he just hadn't wanted it to.

Sighing, he made to get up and put out the fire burning in the hearth, when he heard the door creak open behind him. Jumping to his feet, Jon turned as Eilya entered. Both just looked at one another for a moment, the crackling fire the only sound in the dimly lit room.

'Hi,' said Jon finally, resting his arm on the armchair, before quickly putting it back at his side.

'Hi,' Eilya repeated, closing the door carefully behind her. 'Sam said you were looking for me?'

Damn. Sam couldn't have been more subtle, could he? 'It's nothing bad,' he reassured her, and to his relief, she giggled. 'I just wanted to say… you know, thanks. For today. Looking after the children, keeping them safe…' He ran a hand through his mess of hair. 'You really helped a lot – more than I can ever really thank you for.'

Eilya stood by the table, one hand resting lightly on its surface. A small smile played on her lips, but she didn't say anything. She was staring straight at Jon, with such intent that he just couldn't look away, even if he had wanted to. Eventually, she started to move towards him. He clenched his fist slightly, nerves kicking in from nowhere.

'I can't take credit for your good ideas, Jon. It's you who deserves all the thanks.' She was close, so close that he could literally reach out and touch her now. Her beautiful blue eyes were gauging his every movement, her rose lips still bee stung, still perfect.

'I couldn't have done it on my own. If it wasn't for you, and the others… especially you…' Jon stopped talking, his head only filled with her.

Eilya giggled again. The soft, pale skin of her shoulder was just visible where her large woollen jumper was pulling at her wide-necked gown. Jon tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. She was stood in front of him now, so close that they were practically touching, their eyes locked, the same tension and longing playing with their heads that had been present the night before in the corridor, that had been present the night he had finally kissed her. Jon dug his fingernails into his palms. He wanted her so badly.

Eilya bit her lip, smiling as she whispered. 'You're too modest, Jon. You deserve to be thanked.'

Those words, the same words she had said to him in his first dream of her, all those moons ago, when she had stood in front of him, just like she was now. Except this wasn't a dream. This was all real. All tangible. All his. The knot in the pit of his stomach tightened. He couldn't go without it, without her - not for a moment longer.

Jon leaned forwards, watching as Eilya's eyes slipped closed as he pressed his lips to hers. In that moment, the tension burst around them. Nothing else mattered, except for the two of them, together, alone, finally.

Her hands on his chest, Jon wrapped his arm around Eilya's waist, holding her tightly against him, while his free hand found her hair, his fingers entwining themselves in her thick chestnut locks. She sighed into their kiss, her hands slipping inside his open leather jacket, and under his woollen jumper. Through his thin shirt, he could feel her gentle fingers exploring his chest over the material, first rising up his body, before retracing themselves, and slowly making their way down again, passed his navel, towards his–

Jon broke the kiss, panting. Eilya opened her eyes, looking at him questioningly. Her fingers hovered over the buttons of his breeches.

'Eilya, I…' Jon felt lightheaded, his mind so filled with want that it almost made him feel sick. 'I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with.'

Eilya bit her lip again and smiled a guilty smile. Jon groaned. She looked so gorgeous when she did that. 'I want to,' she whispered. 'Like I said, you deserve to be thanked.'

She stood on her tiptoes, kissing him again, her fingers working the buttons until they were undone. Jon kissed her back automatically, his eyes shut. All he could focus on was her hand slipping under the waistband, slowly, until she reached her goal. She wrapped her warm fingers around him, gently prying him free of the uncomfortable restraints of his breeches. Breaking the kiss, Eilya's eyes flicked to his length in her hand. Breathing hard, Jon put his forehead to hers. 'Eilya,' was all he could manage. He didn't know whether he was warning her, or pleading with her.

Whatever he'd meant, she appeared to do the latter. Gradually, her hand began to move, working him up and down, until he was quivering and gasping, one hand gripping her waist and the other gripping the armchair for balance. The knot in the very pit of his stomach tightened each time, as she pushed him closer to the edge, her breath hot against his ear as she kissed his neck and whispered his name, her other hand running up and down his chest in time with the strokes below, and finally he was there, being pushed over the line, as she moaned in his ear and he cried out and every vein pulsed in his body as she relieved him of all the stress and the misery and the longing he had built up over too long.

Panting, Jon looked at Eilya, her blue eyes shining in the light of the fire as she gazed back at him. 'You deserve every moment,' she whispered, kissing his nose gently.


	18. Chapter 17 - A Failed Proposal

**Author's Note:**

 **Short chapter, as I'm trying to get some of the extra info out of the way before we get back onto the good stuff! Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 17 - A Failed Proposal**

 **Eilya**

A few days had passed since the Wildling children had crossed the border into the villages surrounding Castle Black. Eilya and Gilly had visited a number of them throughout the week, taking supplies and food to the families that had agreed to take them in. Some villagers had been averse to having Wildling children stay with them, others even refusing point blank, leaving their homes behind, braving the harsh winter weather to get to another village far away from the new instructions laid down by Jon Snow.

But some families welcomed the children, taking in three or four each, so that every child had a bed and a place set at the family table. Some of these families had lost children, partners, parents… and Eilya strongly believed that these children were filling the hole that the losses had left behind. It warmed her heart, knowing that people could easily dismiss the oppressive ways of the past, and welcome these children into their families and into their lives.

But the Night's Watchmen of Castle Black didn't appear to see it quite in that context. Ever since the Wildling children had entered Westeros, the atmosphere in the castle had changed; it seemed colder, more guarded than before. Less of the men would adhere to Jon's orders during training, instead they would only listen to Ser Alliser Thorne. More and more had begun to turn a blind eye to Jon's motivational speeches. And during meal times, there was now a clear rift between the men who still supported Jon, and the men who had renounced him as their leader.

Jon appeared to take it in his stride, never losing face, forever their leader, but Eilya couldn't help but worry. It was rare for her to see any of the men, other than Sam, Jon and her brother, but after overhearing Ser Alliser's conversation outside of the pantry, she knew he was angry, and she knew something wasn't right.

On one hand, she wanted to tell Jon this, make sure he knew his enemies, but she had barely seen him since that day, as they had both been so busy. On the other hand, the last thing she wanted to do was to add to his worries, and besides, what could Alliser Thorne _really_ do to the most powerful man at Castle Black?

'Are you alright? You've been very quiet recently.'

Gilly's voice interrupted Eilya from her thoughts as she scrubbed a wooden table in the dining quarters with a holey cloth. Breakfast had not long ended, so the tables were pretty messy. Eilya couldn't understand how the soldiers managed to keep their strength up when half of their food ended up on the tables and all over the floor every day.

'I'm fine, just… concentrating,' Eilya smiled, before returning to the scrubbing. Gilly bit her lip as she stared back at Eilya, pausing her mopping of the stone floor.

'Are you thinking about Jon?' she asked eventually. Eilya instantly blushed, and was about to defend herself, but quickly realised there was no point. Gilly knew how she felt anyway, there was no denying anything.

Eilya sighed, dropping the cloth on the table. 'I'm just worried about him, barely anyone supports his decisions… it can't be easy for him.'

Gilly nodded slowly as she sat opposite Eilya, resting her chin on her left hand. 'True, but he has friends out there, and in here, and he has us… and he has you.'

'Hmm… I don't know what I can do to help him.'

'I do,' Gilly giggled, and she winked, making Eilya's blush deepen.

During one of their visits to Mole Town, Eilya had told Gilly all about her last encounter with Jon in the library. At first she had considered keeping it to herself, but in the end she couldn't help but tell her best friend. She still couldn't believe that what happened had actually happened. Each time she thought about her last time alone with Jon, she felt giddy and nervous and happy all at the same time. The memory of him kissing her and his hands in her hair, moaning her name as she felt him under her fingertips… she longed to be alone with him again, but his spare time seemed to be sparse, especially for anything like the last encounter to unfold again.

'No, I mean to help him with… well, everything,' Eilya retorted, but Gilly's grin was infectious, and she smiled too.

Gilly just shrugged. 'Jon's doing what he needs to do. You just need to support him and keep positive, that's really all you can do.'

* * *

 **Jon**

Winter was upon them. The White Walkers had already begun their attacks just over the border, and the Wildlings were hiding for their lives in the mountains. His decisions in the castle were winning him less and less support among his men, and he was as clueless now as to what to do as he had been before.

And yet, as he lay in his bed, staring into the darkness, snow, sleet and wind rattling the small window, all of Jon's thoughts were on Eilya. Maybe he was crazy, maybe he had lost his mind to worry, or maybe his obsession with her had finally clouded his judgement, but at that moment, Jon didn't care that all he could think about was her.

The thought of her beautiful smile made him smile. The memory of her kiss made his heart leap. And remembering her touch made his cock leap. He longed to be in that library with her again, making her feel as good as she had made him feel. He wanted to hear her moan again, feel her skin against his, watch her unravel as he carried out all of his desires and dirty thoughts with her…

Jon gripped his bed sheets as these thoughts ran threw his mind for the thousandth time, but he felt a pang of slight sadness as it occurred to him that, what he really wanted, was for her to be there, lying beside him, so he could keep her warm and safe as she slept soundly… but they had barely seen each other over the last week, and Jon couldn't help but wish that he could put aside his duties for one day, just so that he could see her beautiful smile properly again.

* * *

 **Eilya**

The long, cold hours turned into long, cold days, and more snow fell on Castle Black as the ice and the bitterness froze the grounds, making training for the men difficult, but never impossible with the looming threat of the White Walkers.

As she did every night, Eilya found herself sat in the library with Sam. Neither Dannard nor Jon had joined them again, and Gilly had long left to feed the baby. So the two were left with their books and their thoughts.

However Sam, normally the soul conversationalist, was being unusually thoughtful that night, and it didn't take long for Eilya to find out why.

'I'm going to ask Gilly to marry me.'

Eilya clapped her hands over her mouth and squealed. 'Oh Sam, that's wonderful! When?'

Sam smiled nervously, although looked relieved at her positive response. 'I'll need to speak to Jon about it first, you know, ask for permission and all. But soon. The Wildling children coming here has made me think… Gilly and the baby need someone to protect them, now more than ever. I'll be there for them, always… I think Gilly deserves to know that.'

Eilya threw her arms around Sam's neck. 'She does! She does, Oh Sam, this is so lovely, Jon will agree, of course he will! This is just what we need right now, something happy and wonderful.' She beamed at him, tears glistening in her blue eyes. But her smile faltered as she reminded herself of the one main predicament. 'Your vows…'

Sam furrowed his brow. 'You know as well as I do what I think of those vows. I was forced to come here, forced into saying those verses and swearing to the brotherhood.' Eilya lowered her gaze as Sam scowled, sensing his rage at the system he had had no choice but become a part of. 'Jon may be my brother, but the other men are not. I live to make my own decisions, and they will always be to take care of Gilly. No oath can ever stop that.'

* * *

 **Jon**

'You don't seem to understand what you're asking of me, Sam.'

Jon stared at Sam incredulously from his desk chair, wondering for a moment if he had heard him right. He was asking him for permission to _marry_?

'I know exactly what I'm asking of you,' Sam responded. He shuffled his feet, but in no way did he look as though he would back down from this.

Jon shook his head, rising from the chair slowly. 'Sam, I… you're my best friend, my brother, I trust you more than I have ever trusted anyone else…'

'Then why can't you give me this?'

'You know why.' The men looked at one another, neither blinking, neither faltering, both determined that they were right.

'Does your title mean that much to you, Jon? That you would deny your best friend, your brother, your most-trusted, this one thing?'

Jon couldn't help but laugh out loud, which caused Sam to narrow his eyes. 'It's nothing to do with my title, Sam, this is to do with your vows. The vows you swore when you came to Castle Black. As Lord Commander, I have to enforce these.'

Sam nodded slowly, never once breaking eye contact. 'So all of those times you've come to me for advice, all of those times I told you that Eily was the best thing for you, that you shouldn't feel guilty for wanting her. I guess that's not the same thing, though.'

Jon scowled at his friend. 'It explicitly says in our vows _'I shall take no wife'_ –'

'Oh no, but shagging them and stringing them along is absolutely fine, because it doesn't say we can't in that ancient fucking–'

'My decision is final, Sam, I said no!'

Sam stopped, his fists clenched, and Jon realised, as he breathed heavily, that his were too.

'If that's your decision…'

Sam turned away, making for the door. Jon suddenly felt a surge of panic set in. 'Sam, I… I hope this doesn't change anything. I still want you as my Maester… the castle, it needs you.'

Sam paused, but didn't turn. 'Your decision is made, Jon, I can accept that. You are Lord Commander, after all. But I don't know if I can stay here when my life is being written for me. Gilly needs me, and I need her. That's all that matters, as far as I'm concerned.'

Sam left the room. The door closed with a slight thud. Jon swallowed back his fear, wondering if his hypocritical and frankly unfair ruling had just lost him one of the only friends he had left.


	19. Chapter 18 - The Name Day Party

**Authors Note:**

 **Hello again! I hope everyone had happy holidays, whatever you celebrate! :)**

 **Here is the next instalment for you lovely lot – as always, thank you for the new and continued support, especially as I am so terrible at updates!**

 **Just a heads up, this is a pretty long chapter, partly to make up for the lack of updates, but also because I had a lot of ideas for this one (including a certain lemon…)**

 **-x**

* * *

 **Chapter 18 – The Name Day Party**

 **Eilya**

'Dann, can I take the blindfold off _now_?'

'Just a little further…'

Eilya felt herself turn a corner, and let out a frustrated sigh her brother guided her carefully down stone steps and through a corridor to the unknown destination. As she came to a stop, she heard a door creak open, and she was led slowly inside.

'Okay, now.' Dannard untied the material from her head, and Eilya was met with a daze of light, and suddenly:

'Surprise!'

Eilya clapped her hands over the mouth and grinned. As per usual at this time of the evening, she was standing in the library, although this time, she found herself surrounded by Sam, Gilly and her brother, with decorations all around them. Coloured material had been hung up, candles were stood on the mantel piece of the fireplace and on empty bookshelves, and a cake sat at the centre of the wooden library table, beside two gifts wrapped in cloth.

'Happy Name Day, Eily,' said Dannard with a smile, hugging his sister tightly. Eilya stepped forward and was embraced by Gilly and Sam, who wished her the same.

'I baked the cake myself,' Gilly said proudly, beckoning at her creation.

'It looks wonderful,' Eilya exclaimed, turning to all of them. 'You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble, I wasn't expecting anything like this.'

'Don't be silly, we couldn't let your Name Day go by without a celebration!' Sam laughed.

'Exactly,' Dannard chimed in. 'Besides, you don't turn twenty-one every day, do you!'

Eilya grinned and hugged them all again, beyond grateful to have such amazing friends.

Gilly began to slice the cake as the others sat in a circle around the fire. Before Eilya could do anything more, Dannard passed her the first gift. 'This one's from me!'

Eilya's grinned widened as she began to unravel the twine and the cloth around the hard object. Inside was a hand-crafted horse, carved out of oak. Every detail was there, and it had been smoothed to perfection.

'I made it myself, it took a while, but I wanted to give you something you could keep and call your own,' Dannard smiled, an anxious look glinting in his eye. 'D… do you like it?'

Eilya was almost rendered speechless as she stared down at the beautiful gift. 'I love it,' she whispered, her breath catching in her throat as she hugged her brother tightly. 'Thank you, so much.'

Her second gift was from Sam. It was a book from the library, one which Sam had found one day while looking for new reading material.

'It's a story about dragons, knights and princesses,' he explained, as Eilya stared at the green leather binding in awe. 'There was a copy at the library where I grew up. Some say it's just fiction, a story for children, but others say the legends hold some truth, that the events happened back in the days when dragons existed.'

'What do you think?' Eilya asked, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Sam shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. 'Doesn't matter what I think, you read it for yourself and see what you believe.'

Eilya looked back at the book and grinned again. 'Thank you, thank you Sam!'

Gilly sat beside her on the rug in front of the fire, handing her a slice of cake on a chipped porcelain plate. Dannard had scoffed his and was going for seconds before the others had even started.

'Try and leave Jon some,' Gilly said quietly, still a little shy around Dannard.

Eilya choked on the cake she had been chewing, her heart suddenly skipping a beat. 'J… Jon's coming?' she asked, trying to sound calm and inquisitive, instead of shocked and delighted.

'Yeh, I asked him earlier, he said he'd get here as soon as he could,' Dannard smiled, scooping up some of the cake's buttercream with his finger.

Eilya could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears as Gilly smiled knowingly at her. 'That's kind of Jon, to take time out of his schedule to come and see you, on your Name Day, don't you think, Eily?' Gilly cooed. Eilya glanced quickly at Dannard, who luckily hadn't heard, before scowling at Gilly. She just giggled.

'Don't you have to be checking on Baby Sam now, _Gilly_?' Eilya asked pointedly.

Her friend pouted slightly, but began to get to her feet. 'I'll be right back. Make sure your brother doesn't eat any more cake!'

As Gilly left the room, Eilya let out a sigh of relief. Her eyes landed on Sam, who was sat in the arm chair, prodding at the fire with a metal rod. Making sure that Dannard was still out of earshot, she wriggled over to him. 'Hey,' she whispered as she reached the armchair. 'Speaking of Jon…' She mentally cursed herself for blushing as she said Jon's name out loud. 'How did it go? When you asked him about… you know… the _proposal_.'

Eilya grinned excitedly, waiting for Sam's equally excited response about his plans and ideas, but instead he gave her a disappointed frown. 'It wasn't… it didn't go well,' he replied sadly.

'Why?' Eilya asked immediately, crawling onto her knees so she could see Sam properly.

Sam exhaled, placing the metal rod on the hearth. 'Jon, he… he didn't… he couldn't… he just–'

'He said no,' Eilya finished flatly. Sam nodded slowly, the disappointment in his eyes seeping into her own heart, quickly turning to anger. Before she could say anymore, the library door opened, and in stepped Gilly and Jon.

'Look who I found,' said Gilly shyly, and Jon smiled widely as he fumbled with his cloak.

Eilya suddenly didn't have it in her to smile back.

* * *

 **Jon**

He couldn't be sure, but as he entered the room, he was pretty certain that Eilya wasn't returning his smile. In fact, she looked as though she was glaring at him. That was, until she turned away from him completely.

Removing his heavy leather-clad cloak, he placed it over a chair as he reached the library table.

'Would you like some cake, My Lord?' Gilly asked timidly, as she began cutting into the half eaten cake in the centre of the table.

'Gilly, please… please call me Jon,' he sighed, but thanked her as she handed him a plate. Jon took a bite of sweet buttercream, remembering suddenly that he had missed every meal that day. His stomach groaned gratefully.

As Jon finished up, he placed the plate back on the table. As his hand brushed the wooden surface, the image of him and Eilya alone in that very library just a few nights before flashed across his mind. He swallowed hard, willing the image to leave his thoughts. _Not now…_

'Jon! I'm glad you could make it!' Dannard's voice cut through the image. Jon felt both grateful and disappointed. He straightened up and smiled at him, but Dannard appeared to cower a bit. 'Jon, er, I was wondering if I could talk to you, about the other night.'

Jon's heart stopped suddenly. Did he _know_? Eilya wouldn't have said anything, and to her _brother_ of all people, would she? 'What night would that be?' he asked, trying to sound calm.

'The night of the children crossing the border. When I was talking to Maris... the Wildling girl.'

Relief hit Jon like a ton of bricks. 'Oh… oh right, yeh, I remember.'

'Well, I just wanted you to know, when I took my vows to the Watch, I took them seriously, and I didn't want you thinking that I would disrespect them, not for a moment.' Jon sensed a 'but' coming. 'However… Maris, she asked me to watch over her son, Torid. He's a young'un, he's with a good family with two other kids. He's doing well. But, I made a promise, to keep him safe. And, well, I've been visiting him – in my spare time, obviously, Jon, but I wanted to make sure. That it was alright. I don't want to be breaking my vows, when I made them first.' As tall and strong as he was, Dannard looked positively petrified as he stared back at Jon.

Jon suddenly couldn't look Dannard in the face. Swallowing back his guilt, he realised the irony of the situation; Dannard apologising for doing absolutely nothing wrong, while Jon kept such a massive secret, not just from Dannard as a member of the Night's Watch, but from him as the brother of the girl he longed to be with every single night.

'Even if that were a problem, those vows are old and outdated. Things change - things _have_ changed. Don't be at war with yourself because you have made a promise. I've already broken the age-old tradition of fighting with the Wildlings. Your promise is simply a product of the change I made.' Dannard smiled widely at Jon's words, which baffled even him that they had come out of his own mouth. However, he didn't feel that they were untrue. In fact, they felt good to say. Jon smiled back. 'So, if there is a problem with you visiting Torid, then technically, that's my fault too.'

Dannard walked back towards the fireplace, cake in hand and a smile on his face. Gilly and Sam were sat there together, talking and laughing. Jon felt a pang of guilt as Sam's eyes met his.

'Nice, what you said to Dannard there. Pity that opinion doesn't apply to everyone.'

Jon was startled by the voice that had suddenly appeared behind him. Turning slowly, he was met by Eilya, standing, arms folded, beside the library table. Jon swallowed, remembering what had happened the last time they had been in this position. Except, this time, her look was anything but 'come hither.'

'Happy Name Day?' Jon tried, but Eilya just scowled.

'Outside. Now.'

* * *

For the last, how many days, Jon had wished he and Eilya could be alone together again. He'd tried salvaging moments, wondering where she was, if he would have the chance to see her that day. Finally, he had managed to clear his increasingly busy schedule to attend her party, and now they were even alone together, stood outside the library door in the freezing cold corridor. As intimate as that sounded, it was anything but.

' _How_ could you have said no?'

'Eilya, it's in the vows–'

'You've just stood there, and told my brother, how 'old' and 'outdated' those bloody vows are!'

'It's different, it doesn't–'

'Explain to me, right now, how is it different?'

Eilya stood before him, hands on hips, pouting ever so slightly in her utter rage. Jon felt so guilty already for what he had said to Sam, and her being angry at him wasn't helping. Especially when all he wanted to do was kiss her. He didn't want her to hate him, not now, not after everything they had already gone through.

'I… I can't.' Jon sighed, leaning against the wall as he ran a hand through his messy hair. 'Those _fucking_ vows _are_ outdated, I _know_ they are, Eily. I just… I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. Sam came to me and asked about marriage, and I wanted to say yes – of course he should marry Gilly, he should be able to marry who he bloody wants to, and so should all the other men – even if some of them really shouldn't.' He grimaced, thinking of some of the thieves and murderers in the ranks. 'But the rules were made for a reason. Who am I to change them now?'

'But you've already started changing them, you said so yourself.' Eilya still had her hands on her hips, but her voice was gentler now. Jon looked up at her. He felt useless. He didn't want to lose his best friend over this. And he definitely didn't want to lose Eilya. Her expression softened as he looked at her hopelessly. He felt limp. Dropping her defiance, she stepped towards him and embraced him. He clung to her, breathing in the smell of her hair and her warmth as she kissed his temple. 'Change starts small, Jon,' she whispered in his ear, before she turned his face to hers. 'I've always admired you for doing the right thing, even when you probably shouldn't.' She kissed his lips softly, hovering over them after. 'Don't go back on this now.'

* * *

The party finished a little while later, after stories and jokes had been swapped, and Sam and Dannard had attempted to re-enact one of Eilya's favourite stories, much to her delight. Finally, when Gilly had fallen asleep on Sam's legs, they all decided to call it a night.

Jon watched from afar as Sam awoke her gently, kissing her forehead, helping her to her feet. He was there for her. He would always be there for her. And Jon would rather know that they were safe.

'I'll walk you to your room, m'lady,' Dannard grinned at his sister, bowing and slurring slightly from the wine he had drunk.

'Oh, I er…' Eilya shot Jon a quick look. 'Well, goodnight, Jon,' she said slowly. 'Thank you for coming tonight.'

'Thank you, Eily, it's been great. Pity it had to end, really…'

'Yes. It is,' she replied, rather pointedly.

Dannard stood between them, swaying and smiling. _Poor bastard has no idea_ , Jon thought, suppressing a smile. 'Sleep well, Eilya.'

'Oh, I'm not really that tired,' she sighed, giving Jon one last look before leaving the library.

Jon was suddenly left alone. He couldn't… it would be wrong of him to… and yet, she had just said…

Grabbing his cloak from the table chair, his predicament echoing back to one that he had been in before with her, something small fell from his robe, and bounced across the floor. It was Eilya's Name Day present – he had completely forgotten to give it to her. It looked as though he would have to visit her after all!

Jon hovered, knowing he would have to give Dannard time to leave before making his way to those store rooms, so as not to cause suspicion. Dannard was protective over Eilya, and for good reason, and as much as Jon liked him, he wouldn't want to anger him, at least not when he was under the influence.

Jon watched as the embers of the fire died, when it occurred to him that Sam would probably still be awake. Clutching Eilya's present in his pocket, he left the library, quickly walking through the corridor towards Sam and Gilly's room.

As he reached the door, he knocked before he could change his mind. This was the right thing to do, he knew it. The vows _were_ old and outdated, and his friend deserved better. He was about to knock again, when the door creaked open, and Sam peered out. 'Jon?' he looked at him questioningly.

'Sam, please could I have a word?'

Sam sighed. 'Gilly's sleeping, and I really don't think there's any more you–'

'Sam, please.'

Sam rolled his eyes, but finally obliged, stepping out into the hall, closing the door gently behind him. 'What is it?'

'I give you permission.'

Sam stood for a moment, as though trying to work out what Jon was talking about, when it suddenly clicked, and his eyes widened. 'You mean…?'

'I give you permission to marry Gilly. The vows are… crap' Jon felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and Sam laughed, throwing his arms around him as Jon laughed too.

'That's… that's… You've made my bloody day!' Sam beamed, clapping Jon on the back. 'You're a good guy really Jon, I'm glad Eily's made you realise it.'

* * *

 **Eilya**

She had lit the candle in the corner of the room, fluffed up her pillows, run her fingers through her hair, but now all she could do was wait. Was Jon going to come? Had he understood her hints? She had tried to make them subtle (although Dannard had probably drunk a little too much to have realised what was going on even if she hadn't), had she made them _too_ subtle? And what if he did come? What would she do then?

Eilya realised she was breathing erratically, and tried to calm herself down. Looking around her small room, she looked for something that would pass the time as she waited. Her wooden horse and her new book sat on the wicker chair beside her bed. Smiling, she picked up the book, running her hand over the leather cover. The faded green seemed familiar to her, but she didn't know where from. Racking her brains, she tried to recall the books she had read at her home in Dead Weather, but none of them seemed to ring a bell. Curiosity getting the best of her, she opened the book to no page in particular, gently so as not to rip the old paper, and began to scan the page, wondering if anything would be familiar to her. She had read about dragons before, a long time ago, before the Winter came, but it could have been any story, as there were so many, or so Sam had told her. Slowly, she turned the page, a picture of a dragon drawn overleaf, glowering down on the text like it would its prey…

A piece of folded parchment fell from the book and onto the floor. Eilya bent down to retrieve it, and realised that this paper was newer, so it couldn't be a page from the book. Placing the book back on the chair, she twisted the parchment in her fingers, biting her lip. This could be a note from centuries ago… depending on when the book had been written, of course. Should she be reading a note that didn't belong to her? But the book itself belonged to her, so…

Eilya slowly unfolded the parchment. Inside was writing in sharp, curled letters.

 _To Eilya, my darling daughter. May your beauty last a thousand moons, may your strength match that of a thousand men, and may your love last a thousand eternities._

Eilya's breath caught in her throat and she let out a small whimper. She froze where she was sat, staring at the words, reading and re-reading them over and over again. The note, the note from her mother, the note she thought she had lost forever, had found its way here, to Castle Black, just like she had. How many people had had this book since her childhood? How many hands had it swapped to get into this library and back to her again? It was as though it had been waiting for her, as though it was her destiny to find it, to be there, just like she was.

It was as though she was always meant to come to Castle Black.

There was a knock, making Eilya jump. Still clutching the note, she stared at the door, trying to slow down, trying to bring her mind back to reality. There was another knock. Shit, it was Jon. Shit shit shit…

Eilya flew from her bed, placing the note gently back inside the book, before she straightened her dress, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

'Hi,' said Jon, smiling down at her.

'Hi,' she repeated, feeling herself blush. 'Erm, come in.'

Jon stepped inside and she closed the door. He was at least a head taller than she was, and had to crane his neck slightly so as not to hit the ceiling.

'Take a seat, err…' Her only chair was taken up by her new Name Day presents. 'I guess, next to me.' She smiled through her blush as Jon sat down on her bed beside her. She felt a little better when she could see that he was blushing too.

'I've just been to see Sam,' said Jon, turning to face Eilya. 'I've given him permission to marry Gilly.'

Eilya grinned at him, and Jon chuckled at her glee. 'Oh Jon, that's… I knew you'd come to your senses!' Forgetting her awkwardness, she threw her arms around Jon's neck, kissing his cheek.

'Also…' Jon handed her a small package wrapped in parchment and tied with a bow. 'For you. Happy Name Day.'

Eilya bit her lip, taking the present. She unwrapped it slowly, wondering what it could be. The parchment fell open, and inside was an oval shaped dragon stone pendent on a steel chain. Eilya gasped. Her mother's pendent.

'I've been meaning to give this back to you for ages,' Jon admitted. 'But it just kept slipping my mind. I found the pendent next to you after you were struck during the battle with the Thenn. The chain was broken, but I managed to fix it…'

'Jon, this is…' Eilya couldn't put into words how complete she felt. The note, the necklace, Sam and Gilly were to be married, Jon was next to her again, finally… It had been the best Name Day, Eilya wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Placing the pendent in the parchment on top of the book on her wicker chair, she turned slowly to Jon, who was leant back against the wall, staring at her with dark eyes. Neither said anything as she shifted onto her knees and leaned towards him, their lips finally meeting. She kissed him slowly, tentatively at first, deepening it as she moved, until her thighs were on either side of his, straddling him, lowering herself until she was sat in his lap. Jon moved slightly to straighten himself into a better position, deepening the kiss further as he tangled his fingers in her long, curly hair. Jon flicked his tongue against hers, and she gently bit his bottom lip, causing him to gasp and his eyes to glint as they broke the kiss, and she pulled his jumper and cotton shirt over his head for him, throwing it the floor behind her.

It was the first time Eilya had seen a man topless, and although she had nothing really to compare him to, Jon did not disappoint. His shoulders were broad and his arms were muscular, but they weren't intimidatingly so. His chest and stomach were toned, but his skin was smooth. He had a few scars and gashes across his body, from training and fighting, and Eilya felt Jon shudder as she ran the tips of her fingers over them. Jon gazed up at Eilya, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes dark, and she bit her lip, wanting him more than she could ever have imagined wanting something in her life.

And then his lips were back on hers, his right hand in her hair again, pulling her to him. She kissed him back furiously, as though she couldn't get close enough to him, their hips beginning to grind against each other's. Eilya could feel that Jon was hard through his breaches, and her hands started to move down his body, to the buttons, but he stopped her, pushing her hands onto his shoulders, slowing down the rhythm as he did so. Eilya made a noise in protest as Jon deepened the kiss once again, but her protest turned into a moan as she felt his hands sliding slowly up her thighs and slipping under the hem of her dress. They stroked her hips, caressing the skin across her navel, causing her to shudder and for Jon to smirk, until they carried on, slowly, up her body, until they found her breasts, and began to massage them gently. Eilya moaned again, and Jon pushed himself against her, groaning as he did so.

Eilya broke the kiss, panting, staring into Jon's dark eyes. 'I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel,' he said in a low, almost dangerous voice that made Eilya's insides squeeze. With one hand still massaging her breast, the other slipped down across her stomach, passed her hip, to the top of her thigh. A finger pushed aside her panties…

'Ahh!' Eilya threw her head back as Jon began to work her with his thumb, his finger barely inside her, but enough to make her legs tremble. His thumb massaged the sensitive area at the same pace as his other hand massaged her breast, and Eilya could already feel the tension building inside of her. She gasped, gripping his shoulders, shutting her eyes tight to focus more on what he was making her feel. His pace began to quicken, as she began to buck against him, and his finger was slowly getting deeper, until she was there, and she cried out again as she unravelled around him.

Jon laid Eilya down as her panting decreased, pulling the covers over the both of them.

'Goodnight, Eily,' he whispered, blowing out the candle, hugging her into his chest as the night overtook her and she fell asleep in his arms.


End file.
